Ere Break of Day
by Evanescence2189
Summary: In a company of fourteen, they left The Shire on a bright summer's morning, oblivious of a young stowaway with a curious eye and an innocent heart. Unlike her neighbor of Bag End, she yearns for an undertaking outside the enclosing walls of her home. But she may find that adventures such as these are not without certain peril, along with a demand for true courage and trust. Kili/OC
1. The Past and the Meeting

**Summary: In a company of fourteen, they left The Shire on a bright, summer's morning, oblivious of a young stowaway with a curious eye, and an innocent heart. Unlike her neighbor of Bag End, she yearns for an undertaking outside the enclosing walls of her home. But she may find, not without help, that adventures such as these are not without certain peril, a demand for true courage and trust, and something worth fighting for. **

**Well, I'm starting fresh in a different fandom, taking a break from the wonderful land of Narnia and into Middle Earth. I know good OCs here are a tricky thing to create without becoming a Mary Sue, but I feel for an author who has had some practice, a new challenge is welcome! Now while we may be very familiar with the storyline by now, I'm going to do my best to add in twists and turns along the way.**

**Write an OC that will eventually be paired with a secondary character? **

**Challenge accepted.**

**Warning: This will follow both the books and the movie, so it is not exclusively one or the other. Though there will be some quotes from the actual book, just because I feel there are some things of Tolkien that can only be expressed in his wording to do the meaning of it justice.**

**Disclaimer: In his books, Tolkien more or less used a mixture of Welsh and Old English when coming up with his characters' names, so I have done the same. And to the best of my ability, I have also mimicked the pattern of how they were chosen for their children.**

* * *

_~Ere Break of Day~_

Chapter One – The Past and the Meeting

"_Now, now, time for bed. It's much too late for little ones to be up and about."_

"_Please, father, will you tell us the story?"_

"_I told you already, it is far too late for stories." _

"_Father, please?" the child asked in a drawn out whine._

_Anian regarded his two children, who looked up at him with shining eyes. The girl bit her lip as she toyed with a beaded chain that hung from her neck, while her younger brother clasped his hands as he pleaded. Their father tried his best to hold out, to be firm…but he couldn't outlast their gazes of piercing gray—just like their mother's. _

Serén is going to tease me mercilessly for this,_ he thought. But with a sigh, he got down on the ground sat with his legs crossed in front of the two, who both smiled and sat as Anian had done. _

"_In eastern lands much farther away than here—past The Shire, past the Weather Hills, the elven lands of Rivendell, through mountains and forest, and even more northern than Esgaroth—there is a mountain, much taller or larger than you could ever imagine, with six ridges stemming from a center peak, snowcapped even in the Spring," he began. "There lied the great city of Erebor, where a good many dwarves thrived peacefully by mining in the deep caves of the mountain. Not a few miles away was Dale, a city of men that was also prosperous and growing along with its sister city. It was a strong kingdom under King Thráin I (otherwise known as Thráin the Old), who commanded his miners to dig deeper and deeper, and every day they found many valuable jewels and precious metals. _

"_Nevertheless, none could compare to one large, white gem that seemed to glow of its own accord. A young dwarf, __Einir, son of Einon__, found this gem, the heart of the mountain—the Arkenstone. He dug it out of the rock, and marveled at its beauty. He wondered if he should simply keep it for himself; the king had a hoard of jewels and gold already, what was one more stone to King Thráin I? With this, Einir would be even wealthier than he already was (being a miner was a very lucrative business), and he was still a young dwarf by his people's standards, only in his eighties. By the time he started a family of his own, they would have no need to work!_

"_But…he realized that keeping the gem would go against the king's orders. And so, he sacrificed his plan for the future. Instead, he brought it to the king. Thrain was greatly pleased_ _with Einir's findings, and displayed his favor with the dwarf well by giving him riches in gold, precious stones, fine jewelry, and silver. Though there were limited amounts of each, Einir was overwhelmed with the gifts, and expressed his heartfelt gratitude to the king before bringing it all to his humble home in the city. _

"_Einir did a foolish thing then, however, for he buried the riches he had been given in a large trunk, somewhere beneath the house. He did this because he had no family of his own; his father and mother and aunts and uncles had left with Prince Thorin I and many of the other Folk of Durin to live in the Ered Mithrin (or the Grey Mountains), as there was promise of much wealth there. Because he was alone, and already well off, he decided to hide his treasure for the time being. He wrote out the directions of where it was located, lest he ever forget, and put it within the drawer of his desk in his study."_

_Here he paused in his tale, and a sad frown dragged the corners of his mouth downward as he shifted his gaze to the clean, wood flooring. The eldest child noticed, and she cocked her head to the side._

"_Father?" she asked. Instead of answering her, he shook his head and continued._

"_Years came and went, and he found a wife, and grew a family of his own, but by this time, he had very much forgotten about the trunk buried in the earth. It was generations later, when his great-grandson had inherited the same house Einir had lived in, when generations of kings had also passed, with King Thrór reigning over the now mighty stronghold of Erebor, that the dragon Smaug laid waste to the city upon Erebor, and Dale, all to claim the hoard that was the King's treasury of plentiful riches_. _He and many dwarves and men barely escaped with their lives as they were led out of their homes, and were forced to start anew in other lands._

"_Some took refuge in the Blue Mountains, some travelled to the northern lands of the Grey Mountains, where many of their kin still lived, while others travelled farther south. This great-grandson of Einir was one of those who settled in the Blue Mountains, and there also found himself a wife. He had been told of Einir's buried treasures as a child and remembered them once he inherited the house, but he never found it; the letter upon which Einir's directions had been written were missing from the old desk. _

"_Soon, he forgot about his life in Erebor (in a vehement attempt to forget), along with the melancholy memories that the Lonely Mountain would forever possess for the dwarves of Erebor, and the men of Dale." _

_Anian regarded his children once his tale was over, and had to smile at how the boy had already fallen asleep laying on the floor by his sister's side. But the little girl was wide awake, a sorrowful expression upon her face._

"_What a sad story," she said softly. "Is it true, Father? You've told us the story many times, but I never thought to ask."_

_He hesitated for a moment, before answering with a small smile._

"_I believe so, yes."_

"_Can they ever go back to the mountain?"_

"_In time, they may return. But the dragon must be vanquished first," he said, his smile curling into a grin._

"_Well, one day I'm going to go to the Lonely Mountain and I'm going to defeat that old lizard! He won't know what hit him!" she exclaimed passionately as she jumped to her feet. Anian laughed then, but quieted her. _

"_Perhaps the dwarves of Erebor will someday return to their rightful place, but for now, I think it's time for all of us to be sleeping, not just your brother," he said wryly, and gently picked up the boy in his arms. Holding the sleeping child, he led the other trailing behind him to their respective rooms. _

_After both had been tucked in, and drifted off to soundless sleep, Anian wandered through the halls of the house, which was only a bit larger than a hobbit hole. It was intended as such when built ten years before, and at the moment, it was silent. The air inside was warm, and had the feel of _a_ home, but not quite…home. It was times like these, when his family was soundly sleeping, that he found himself meandering about, humming an old tune most of his kin knew from memory. Old, but not forgotten. _

"_Far over the misty mountains cold._

_To dungeons deep, and caverns old._

_We must away, ere break of day,_

_To seek our pale enchanted gold…"_

* * *

It was the perfect day. Sunny, cloudless, a light breeze, warm, but not too much. On this bright morning in May, a kindly hobbit named Bilbo Baggins of Bag End was enjoying himself, smoking from his pipe (which was so large it reached down nearly to his toes) and making wide rings in the air. He stood at the door in front of his home overlooking The Hill for a while before he saw an old man holding a staff. He wore a blue hat, a long gray cloak, a silver scarf, immense black boots, and a long, gray beard that hung down below his waist.

"Good morning!" said Bilbo with a smile. But the old man simply looked at him through bushy, gray eyebrows.

"What do you mean?" he said. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?"

The hobbit looked at him strangely, but conceded that it would be impolite to stare at the old man without giving him an answer.

"Well, I suppose all of them at once," said Bilbo. "And it is a fine morning for a good pipe of tobacco. If you have a pipe about you, sit a while and have a fill of mine! There's no hurry on a beautiful day such as this."

And he punctuated his point by sitting down upon the step in front of his door and blew out another ring of smoke, which gathered high in the sky without breaking, and drifted over The Hill. It was a lovely view from his front yard, lined on either side with green plants and colorful flowers that rose high enough from the ground to make up a kind of hedge for privacy. But for some, privacy seemed…well…overrated, for lack of a better word.

Bilbo Baggins lived next to a smaller house, in which another family resided. They had not lived there as long as Bilbo's family had, but they were kind, if not a bit strange. There lived a mother with her two children, who were now considered grown out of adolescence, but still lived with her to care for her. One of the two, however, was a girl with a curious eye, and keen ears. Well, keen enough for a human, that is.

On this morning she was watering the plants in her plentiful garden, fashioned similarly to Bilbo's, whom she called Mr. Baggins. She knew it was impolite to eavesdrop, but she couldn't help listening to their strange conversation as the plants were tall enough to hide her short form. Curiosity already piqued, she set the water jug down and crept closer to the bushes.

"Very pretty," said the old man. "But I'm afraid I have no time to blow smoke-rings today. I am looking for someone to share an adventure…" Bilbo visibly started at this, his expression lined with confusion.

"An _adventure?_" said the hobbit.

_Preposterous, _he thought to himself. _What in blazes…_

He even set down his pipe at the mere idea and pointed out to the left while he spoke. "I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures."

With this, he got up and ventured to his mailbox some yards away, opening it to not only see if he had received anything new, but also to distract himself from this peculiar old man.

"Nasty, disturbing uncomfortable things," Bilbo added. "Make you late for dinner!"

He then began reading the few letters he had gotten, pretending to ignore the man. But he did not move, and stood leaning on his walking stick as he silently watched the hobbit. Becoming quite uncomfortable, Bilbo rose as he brought his pipe to his mouth again.

"Good morning," he said finally before turning to leave.

"To think I should be 'good morninged' by Belladonna Took's son," said the old man. "As if I was selling buttons at the door."

"I beg your pardon?" said Bilbo, who was by now even more confused.

"You have changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins," he said as he regarded him from under his hat.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Bilbo asked in annoyance.

"You know my name, though you don't remember I belong to it. I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means…" he trailed, then grinned a bit. "Well, me."

A spark of recognition lighted Bilbo's eyes, and he smiled in pleasant surprise.

"Gandalf? Gandalf! The wandering wizard who made such _excellent_ fireworks, I remember those! On Mid-summer's Eve, when the Old Took used to set them up on. They would go up like great lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire and hang in the twilight all evening!" exclaimed Bilbo with some excitement. "The same Gandalf who was responsible for so many quiet lads and lasses going off into the blue for adventures; anything from climbing trees to visiting elves or sailing in ships to other shores…yes, life used to be quite inter—I mean, you used to upset things badly in these parts once upon a time. I beg your pardon, but I had no idea you were still in business_._"

"And where else should I be?" asked Gandalf, rather indignantly. "I am pleased to find you remember something about me…even if it is only my fireworks…but it's decided! It will be very good for you…" He paused at Bilbo's incredulous expression.

"…And most amusing for me," he finished. "I shall inform the others."

Bilbo took his pipe from his mouth and pointed it at the wizard as he made cautious steps backwards, and said, "What? No, no, no, wait, no. We do not want any adventures here, thank you, not today. I suggest you try over The Hill or…across the water, now…good morning!"

All the while, Gandalf watched the flustered hobbit with both disbelief and annoyance. But something strange happened then. He heard a rustling behind him, which made Bilbo pause in his tracks as well. The wizard turned around, and happened upon a young woman. As she shakily stood and brushed tendrils of dark hair away from her face, she also dusted herself off from dirt and twigs and other such things that had clung to her in her tumble through the greenery. Flushed with embarrassment, she smiled nervously as she spoke.

"Good morning, Mr. Gandalf, Mr. Baggins. I deeply apologize, for I know it's rude to listen in to others' private conversations, but I couldn't help but hear…well, I don't know if you know of my family, Mr. Gandalf, but my mother remembers your fireworks well…and-and how you always told the most wonderful stories."

She was babbling, she knew, but upon hearing the wizard's proposition, she couldn't help but be interested. Her mother had told her of those things Bilbo had recalled, how Gandalf had recruited people on fantastic journeys before. They had captured her mind when she was a little girl, just like her father's stories had; the smell of them as he rode in on his wagon, the smoke that filled the sky as it was lit up in reds and oranges and purple hues…none of these memories were her own, but within the confines of her imagination she could see it all, what she could expect them to look like.

"What is your name, dear girl?" asked the wizard, who now looked at her with a bit of curiosity.

"Aneira, daughter of Anian." Despite himself, he regarded her with an expression of mild surprise.

"Anian, son of Anhun?" he clarified.

"Yes, Mr. Gandalf," she replied in a quiet voice and with downcast eyes, which did not go unnoticed by Gandalf, or the hobbit, who viewed the girl with sympathy, for he knew why she was saddened. Her hand distantly rose to finger along her collar as she viewed the dirt ground.

"And why does this upset you?" the wizard questioned, though he could speculate her answer.

"Ten years ago, my father passed from a wasting illness. The few times that he mentioned you, he always spoke of you highly," she admitted. Gandalf's demeanor became grave once again.

"I am sorry to hear it. I knew your father, long ago, when he first settled in these lands…but what is a girl such as yourself doing rummaging about the plant life, and that of your neighbor's as well?" he asked.

"Yes, Aneira, what _were _you doing?" Bilbo asked in bemusement. He stood in the middle of the steps leading up to the door, brightly painted in yellow, of his hobbit hole.

"Well, I was watering the flowers in our yard, when I heard you talking with Mr. Gandalf about some kind of undertaking…and it stirred memories of when I was a girl, my father speaking of Mr. Gandalf's stories: the tales of mighty warriors, and of great battles of dwarves and elves and men, and their greater feats and travels over new and exciting lands…and…well, I wanted to meet you, sir," she said shyly. Gandalf raised a brow.

"And why is it that you call me 'mister' and 'sir?'" he asked. Aneira bit her lip and folded her hands in front of her.

"I've never called one of…superiority anything less…" she said, because "superiority" sounded better than "_old._" She trailed off as her tone became wistful in memory.

"Well do stop, child. A 'sir' or 'mister' is not needed," said Gandalf, leaning on his staff once again. "Gandalf is my name, and Gandalf I shall always be."

Aneira blinked and stared at the wizard.

"Y-Yes, M…Gandalf," she said, rather nervously. She didn't want to offend him in the least.

"And how is your mother? Still ever on her spinning wheel?" asked Gandalf. Aneira shook her head negatively, and she noticed Bilbo's expression grow more solemn.

"No, sir," she said, already having forgotten Gandalf's instruction. "She has…become frail of health since the death of my father."

Even though she was only a little over Bilbo's age of fifty, the woman was half of what she once was. They had not the money to get her proper medicine, and so Aneira and her brother Aeron strived to provide her at least the comfort of proper meals and soft clothing. Aeron helped tend the fruits and vegetables in the fields from morning till dusk, while Aneira had inherited her mother's gift for sewing, whether it be clothing, textiles, thread jewelry, or other such things for vending.

"I see," said Gandalf. And he paused. Aneira wasn't sure what he was thinking, but he appeared pensive before he next spoke. "Well, I offer her my regards."

"Thank you," she said, but her tone lacked the same bright enthusiasm of before. "Well, I suppose I should be going. It was a pleasure to meet you…Gandalf, and very nice to see you Mr. Baggins. Sorry for your plants, if I happened to step on any."

"It's no trouble, Aneira, but please do go around next time," the hobbit said with a gentle smile. She nodded and glanced once more at the wizard.

"Goodbye, Aneira," he said with a small smile. "It is a pleasure to meet the daughter of Anian."

She smiled again, and made her leave, and the wizard and the hobbit were once again left to take up their argument.

"As I was saying, I shall inform the others of our final member," said Gandalf. Bilbo sighed, and became agitated once again.

"No, no…no! As you can see, you will not find anyone for adventures _here!_ So I say again, good morning to you!" The hobbit ran the rest of the way up the steps, entered his house, and closed the door behind him. He went further into his house and treated himself to an early lunch in attempt to forget about the odd, stubborn wizard, who unbeknownst to him, still stood in front of his door.

"I'm home."

Aneira was idly chopping vegetables for supper by the time her brother entered through the front door of their cottage. He took each step slowly as he shouldered the large pack he wore, no doubt filled with the earnings he was allotted from the daily harvest.

"Welcome home," she said with a bright smile.

Aneira set the knife she had been using down on the kitchen counter before relieving Aeron of his burden, and setting it upon the far side of the counter. Aeron allowed her to take it from him with a sigh and a roll of his broad shoulders. He stretched, hands braced on his arched back, and he grunted as he felt muscles strain and joints crack. Aneira winced as she heard them.

"Aeron, I fear you've been laboring too hard—"

"Sister, please. I'm fine, if a little taxed. The sun was particularly exposed today, but it did not make our work any more laborious as any other."

"You should not have to be working twelve to thirteen hours out of the day—you don't see any other resident of Hobbiton out in the fields at the unholy hour of six o'clock in the morning," Aneira said indignantly. Aeron let out a short, humorless chuckle.

"That is because most of Hobbiton's residents are _hobbits_."

"My point is, you do not have to be out tending the fields for so much of the day!" said Aneira in exasperation. "It's far past the hour of dinner time, and not even really day anymore. In fact, it's nearly night." As many times as the two had attempted the same conversation, her brother managed to irk her in exactly the same way. Her gaze shifted to the ground as her lips pursed. "You're not the only one who is providing for this family."

Aeron's irritated expression softened into something gentler as he considered his sister. Though she was small of stature and often times holding a certain naiveté in her demeanor, he was ever reminded that she was his older sister. He knew she worried for him, that he should be the one to bear the brunt of supporting the three of them. But he would rather sustain his own silent joy of being welcomed home by her smile than seeing the bright, sprightly light in her eyes dwindled by grueling, tedious hours under sweltering heat, bending over at stocks of vegetation until sore limbs cry out in protest.

"Would you like a drink of water?" she asked, viewing his flushed cheeks and tired eyes with concern.

Aeron shook his head negatively, taking a washcloth from a drawer underneath the counter and wiping the dried sweat and grime from his hands and face. Flushed, he was, but not burnt. His skin was deeply tanned from his long days of toil under the sun, and his black tresses, not unlike his sister's, was wild and untamed, framing an angular, yet youthful face.

"No, I'm fine. Do you need help with the meal?" Aneira mimicked Aeron's previous gesture of shaking his head, and she grinned.

"I'm nearly finished, go wash up and get out of those disgusting clothes, and please wake Mum. She's been sleeping since lunch."

"Fine, but I'm leaving my muddied boots on your bed," Aeron said over his shoulder as he walked toward the back of the house.

"You'd have better not, or I'll _accidentally_ put a toad in your stew!" Aneira glared at the back of his head and could almost see his smirk as he paused at his bedroom door, turned to her, and threw back an easy retort.

"Good luck finding one, I'm sure there are many toads lining up at our doorstep, though I can't imagine why anyone or any_thing_ would want be in _your_ stew."

"I'm sure you would appreciate it more if it was _Melisse's _stew," she teased, earning a playful glare from her brother.

"Oh, come off it. She's _your_ friend not mine."

"Yes, but don't think I haven't noticed how your eyes follow her when she leaves a room, or when she walks down to the market."

Melisse, daughter of Malvern was their neighbor to the west, an outspoken and vivacious hobbit whose singing voice was as beautiful as her long blonde hair, or at least, as much as Aneira knew her brother told his friends. She usually came by to help Aneira with sewing and the day's cooking before her shift at the local pub as a waitress. But Melisse was on a trip with her father into Bree to see a sick relative, and she would be gone for the week.

_Brother won't have her daily smile to brighten his day_, she thought with a smirk.

"And I _could_ settle for adding some moldy bread, or a rotten, raw egg," Aneira said with a raised brow, hands at her hips. Aeron rolled his eyes and slipped into his room, but not without one last parting jibe.

"If there was anyone that could turn a meal into a poison, it would be you, _fair sister_."

* * *

Aneira was awoken in the night. By what exactly, she was not sure. Her bedroom was closest to the neighboring house, and she could hear raised voices—shouting, laughing, talking, and there were some loud crashing noises that she could only presume, had woken her.

_I wonder what's going on_, she thought. _Mr. Baggins rarely has visitors, least of all any _this_ rambunctious. _

She was never one to sit idly while questions hung in the balance.

Her brother was snoring heavily in the next room over, and her mother was also sound asleep, from what she could tell of her (much lighter) sleeping sounds. The window in her bedroom was large enough for her slim frame to slip through, and she crept out of it so she wouldn't disturb her family with opening the front door. It was only two feet to the ground, where she landed lightly on the grass, and she closed her window as quietly as she could before venturing onward.

The commotion was distinctively louder now that she was outside, especially as she made the walk around the line of tall bushes that separated their houses, and crept closer to one of the house's many windows. This one overlooked the dining room, where several dwarves were merrily devouring everything in Bilbo's possession (that was worth eating) and drinking ale and wine from large mugs. Faintly, Aneira could hear Bilbo shouting his protests at those carrying various plates and silverware and food. When she glimpsed through the window, she almost giggled at how most all of them ignored him.

_Well, he should be a good host, if he invited them. Though it doesn't appear as if he did._

Especially as he stopped Gandalf in the hall, and asked him why there were so many dwarves in his house. She followed them as best as she could from her position outside the house, peeking in windows and listening by the sill.

* * *

"My dear Bilbo, what on _earth_ is the matter?" asked Gandalf, who himself had a mug in his hand. Bilbo gave him an incredulous look.

"What's the matter? I'm surrounded by dwarves, what are they doing here?" he whispered earnestly.

"They make quite a merry gathering, I should think you'll soon get used to them," said Gandalf with an amused grin upon his face as they walked through a hall. Bilbo veered around two dwarves, whose names were Fili and Kili. They were fighting over a long link of sausages, while another, called Bombur, was all but attacking a whole roll of cheese.

"I don't want to get used to them! They've ruined my kitchen, there are mud tracks on the carpet, th-they-they _pillaged_ the pantry, and you don't even want to _know_ what they've done in the bathrooms; the plumbing is all but destroyed. I just don't understand what they're doing in my house!" Bilbo said the last part quite dryly, but he had reached his wit's end. Gandalf knew this, but was amused all the same.

"Excuse me," said a dwarf—Ori, the youngest, if Bilbo recalled. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?"

Another dwarf, Fili, entered the room and said, "Here you go, Ori, give it to me."

He threw it across the room, to the hobbit's horror, to Kili, who caught it and threw it behind him, along with many more plates that came his way. These were thrown to Bifur in the kitchen, who also caught them and began washing them in the sink.

* * *

Aneira couldn't help but giggle quietly to herself at the dwarves' antics. Her poor neighbor surely felt as if he was being bombarded in his own home, but she wished she could be a part of the fun they were all having. She heard them singing a merry song as they threw dishes around, cleaning them for Bilbo, and had to smother her laughter as she realized they were making fun of his whining and protesting at ruining his furniture and kitchen utensils.

But then, things became suddenly quiet as she heard a loud knock around the corner of the house, outside. She could tell someone new had entered the house, but who, she couldn't be certain if she didn't want to be caught. Whoever it was, it must be an important guest, because all was quiet for a while, save for a couple voices in conversation that she could not make out. Eventually, however, they came close enough to the window she was sitting under that she could hear their carries voices.

"Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

"So, this is the hobbit." The voice was condescending in its tone, and she could only assume it was whom Gandalf had introduced. Hesitantly, she stole another glance from the corner of the window.

_He seems intimidating_, she thought. _And rather tall for a dwarf, at least, not as short as I would expect a dwarf to be. But then again, many of them are. I think I would only stand above Mr. Baggins and the youngest-looking dwarf._

"Tell me, Mr. Baggins," said Thorin. "Have you done much fighting?"

"Pardon me?" Bilbo quipped.

"Axe or sword as your weapon of choice?" It was phrased as a question, but to Aneira, it sounded like more of a wry statement.

"Well, I do have some skill in conkers…but I fail to see why that is relevant," said Bilbo.

"I thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar," Thorin said dryly. The rest of the dwarves laughed at this, but Aneira frowned.

_Why do they tease him so? He asked a reasonable question_, she thought. But she would soon find out as she followed the group back to the dining room, now clean and set with deserts as they ate and talked of news from their kin in the Blue Mountains. Somehow this name struck a chord within Aneira, as if she had heard it before. She knew it was a dwarven settlement, but it was something more that niggled in the back of her mind.

* * *

"They will not come. They say this quest is ours alone," said Thorin, taking a swig of ale from his mug.

"You're going on a quest?" Bilbo asked, attracting the attention of all the dwarves, and Gandalf.

"Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light, hmm?" said Gandalf. Bilbo obliged, and left the room in search of a candle. "Far to the east, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak."

Gandalf pulled out a map as he spoke, and laid it before the dwarves, flat on the table. By this time Bilbo had returned with a candle, and looked over the wizard's shoulder.

"_The Lonely Mountain_," he read aloud.

"Aye, Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time," said Gloin, accompanied by some of the dwarves' groans of annoyance.

"Ravens have been seen flying to the mountain as it was _foretold_," Oin added. "'When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.'"

Bilbo perked up at this, and there was an uneasy feeling beginning to stir in the pit of his stomach.

"Uh…what beast?" he asked, once again drawing the attention of the room's occupants.

"Well, that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible," said Bofur. "Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age—air-born fire breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks…extremely vulnerable to precious metal—"

"Yes, I know what a dragon is," Bilbo said quickly, not trying to be impolite, but wanting the dwarf to end his extensive description.

"I'm not afraid, I'm up for it!" Ori suddenly exclaimed and stood from his chair. "I'll give 'im a taste of the dwarfish iron right up his jacksie!"

Bilbo's eyes widened in shock at the dwarf's audacious outburst, but the rest loudly expressed their agreements, until his brother, Dori, forced Ori to sit, before he further made a fool of himself.

"We number just thirteen," Balin pointed out. "And not thirteen of the best…nor brightest." But it was to the indignation of several dwarves at the insult, and many voiced their plights, until Fili's voice cut through the bickering.

"We may be few in number, but we are fighters—all of us, to the last dwarf!" he exclaimed.

"And you forget we have a wizard in our company. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!" said Kili. Some murmured their agreement, while the wizard held up a placating hand.

"Well, no, no…" he began, "I wouldn't say that…"

"Well how many?" asked Dori.

"Eh, what?" said Gandalf, distractedly.

"How many dragons have you killed?" he rephrased. When Gandalf hesitated and choked a bit on the smoke coming from his pipe, Dori again demanded a number, and the dwarves erupted in bickering once again. It was only when Bilbo began trying to settle things down that Thorin rose, and commanded both their attention and their silence.

"If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them also?" he said. "Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years…eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize the chance to _take back Erebor!_"

The cheers of agreement were his answer. But Balin spoke the voice of doubt once again.

"You forget, the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the Mountain," said Balin sollemnly.

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true," said Gandalf. He reached into the folds of his cloak and retrieved a large, metal key, the size of his hand. Thorin stared at it with wide eyes.

"How came you by this?" he whispered coarsely.

"It was given to me by your father, Thráin, for safe keeping. But it is yours now," he said, and offered it slowly to the dwarf. Thorin took it just as slowly, disbelief written in his expression.

"If there is a key," said Fili, "then there must be a door."

Gandalf proceeded to show them on the map of runes indicating a hidden passage to the lower halls, but the only problem with this was, dwarf door were invisible when closed. Gandalf sighed then.

"The answer lies somewhere within this map and I do not have the skill to find it, but there are others in Middle Earth who can," he said with a small grin. "The task I have in mind will take a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage."

He glanced at Bilbo then, to the hobbit's confusion, but the wizard continued to address the dwarves.

"But, if we are careful, and cover, I believe it can be done."

"_That's_ why we need a burglar," Ori realized.

"Yes, and a good one too," Bilbo agreed. "An expert, I would imagine."

"And are you?" asked Balin.

There was a silent pause, in which Bilbo wondered who the dwarf had been talking to, for he couldn't have actually have been addressing _him_.

"Am I what?" he asked.

"He said he's an expert!" Oin said with a laugh.

"Me? No, no, no, I'm not a burglar. I've never stolen a thing in my life!" exclaimed the hobbit.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins," said Balin. "He's hardly burglar material."

* * *

She couldn't believe it. The Lonely Mountain, the story, it was everything her father had told her about in his stories. She had wanted to believe that it was real, but she didn't actually know for certain until this moment. And that was where they were going, to defeat the dragon, Smaug. It had to have been fate that drew her here, how else could an opportunity like this simply land at her feet? Suddenly she wasn't sitting under a window outside her neighbor's house. At that moment, she could see many miles away from her small home, to a landscape raised with intricately carved stone, an entire city encased with lights and bustling people, full of life and activity and passion that made the daydream seem so very real.

_To be free... _she thought. _The forest; the trees, the wild. And the mountains; "tall" being an understatement, picturesque and majestic, like father's drawings… _

But there was difficulty, in that not only was she not invited, but Bilbo didn't even want to go. Although, it did seem as if Gandalf was trying to persuade him.

She kept listening to their squabbling, and heard Gandalf raise his voice to the dwarves. It sounded unnaturally loud, but he soon lightened in tone as he explained how hobbits were light on their feet and could remain hidden even better than dwarves. And while the dragon was accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the smell of hobbit was all but unknown to the beast.

"There is a lot more to him than appearances suggest. And he has a great deal more to offer than any of you know," Gandalf said. "Including himself…but you must trust me on this."

"…Very well," said Thorin, after a moment's hesitation. "We'll do it your way."

Aneira looked at the very edge of the window, and saw the most peculiar sight.

"No, no," Bilbo began to protest, but the dwarves came up with the contract they had drawn up for him.

"It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, funeral arrangements, so forth," said Balin, who handed the document to the hobbit.

"Funeral arrangements?" Bilbo asked incredulously. But as he opened the folded parchment, it turned out to be quite long, nearly reaching to the floor. He groaned and began reading choice lines (ones he found alarming and rather outrageous) out loud.

"…One fourteenth of profit, seems fair…shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by but not limited to…lacerations…evisceration…_incineration?_" He glanced over at the dwarves sitting at the table.

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye," said Bofur. Bilbo's eyes widened, along with Aneira's, who listened with rapt attention.

"I think I feel a bit faint," said Bilbo, who held onto his knees for support in attempt to fix the rush of blood out of his head.

"Think furnace, with wings," Bofur continued, despite Bilbo's stammering of a need for air.

"Flash of light, searing pain, then _poof!_ You're nothing more than a pile of ash!"

Bilbo stumbled a bit for a moment, before promptly passing out and falling to the floor in a heap. The dwarves got up and drew closer to the fallen hobbit. Gandalf shook his head.

"Very helpful, Bofur," he deadpanned.

_That didn't sound very pleasant_, thought Aneira. _But that is only if you are caught. _

And that was the last thing she would plan on doing. If she joined them of course.

_Wait, what am I _thinking?_ This isn't something you can just invite yourself on…and more importantly, I have responsibilities at home, I can't just up and leave._

And as she sat alone in the grass, staring up at the stars for what seemed like hours (but was really only minutes), she thought of her mother. Her health had been failing for years, and only progressively degenerated without the proper care she needed. They were only just making it by with both Aneira and her brother working as many odd jobs as they could to support them.

_No, I _cannot_ leave. What on _earth_ was I thinking? _

Of being selfish.

Just as she would have turned to leave, she heard something, eerie yet sorrowful, and pulling. It drew her nearer to the window once more. She heard deep, echoing voices, and a tune so achingly familiar…

"_Far over the misty mountains cold._

_To dungeons deep, and caverns old._

_We must away, ere break of day,_

_To seek our pale enchanted gold._"

Tears began to stream down her face as she saw him, Anian, sitting with her in the dark, and telling her the tale of a people forced from their homes. She remembered his likeness, the mixture of grief and sorrow in his eyes as he told it. Her hand began to finger the chain that rested against her collarbone and circled about her neck—a precious item of silver her father had gifted her with when she was small, barely taller than his knee.

"_The pines were roaring on the height,_

_The winds were moaning in the night,_

_The fire was red, it flaming spread;_

_The trees like torches blazed with light._

_The bells were ringing in the dale_

_And men looked up with faces pale;_

_The dragon's ire more fierce that fire_

_Laid low their towers and houses frail…"_

It was heartbreaking to hear it in this way, and she recognized their song as one her father had frequently hummed to himself—on those nights after he had tucked Aneira and her brother into bed, when he thought all of them were soundly sleeping. She had heard his voice, and she had heard the words. Only, she had not known what they meant until this day.

"_The mountain smoked beneath the moon;_

_The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom._

_They fled their hall to dying fall_

_Beneath his feet, beneath the moon._

_Far over misty mountains grim_

_To dungeons deep and caverns dim_

_We must away, ere break of day,_

_To win our harps and gold from him…"_

She walked home when it was still dark, crept into her room by the window, and was surprised out of her wits to see her mother there, sitting on her bed.

"Mum! What are you doing out of bed?" Aneira asked, quite flustered. Serén only raised a brow.

"You're asking _me_ this question?" she said wryly.

"Well…you see, there was a commotion happening next door, which woke me up, and I—"

"You _had _to go see what it was?"

Aneira's silence was her answer.

"Spying is neither polite nor appropriate," Serén said firmly, though her grasp on the bed was tentative, her face pale.

"Have you slept at all?" Aneira asked.

"A bit, but you were not the only one who was wakened…they spoke of interesting things, I gather?"

Aneira proceeded to tell her mother everything that she had seen and heard, though she kept what had been her fleeting desires to herself.

"All the stories Father used to tell, they were all true…in my heart, I suppose I always wanted them to be," said Aneira. She looked to her folded hands in her lap as she sat beside her mother on the bed.

"Then…why should you not go?" Serén said quietly, against her better judgment. Aneira gave her a shocked look.

"Of course not, how could you think such a thing?" Aneira asked. But when Serén simply gave her a wry look, Aneira shifted her gaze to her hands in her lap.

"I can't _leave,_" she said incredulously. The thought was ridiculous, a fleeting fancy.

"Your brother has had more than enough practice handling things here…and it would do you good to get out in the open…you've sacrificed much for me." Serén shifted her gaze out the window then, reflectively taking in the night sky.

"Mother, I couldn't—"

"When was the last time you went to a concert in the square?" Serén asked. The question took her daughter by surprise and she paused in thought.

"I…don't really remember."

"How about the last time you bought yourself a hair ribbon, or a bracelet? Or for that matter, went with Melisse and socialized with others your age?"

Aneira gave Serén a long look.

"I know where you're going with this, but—"

"This is not the way to live, Aneira."

_Look at me! _she lamented to herself._ I'm doing what I always swore I would never do: put any of my children in harm's way by going back…but she needs to know…I would never forgive myself if my own daughter spent her life without ever knowing the joy…and the pain…it can bring. _

She regarded Aneira silently for a moment, and held the girl's hands in her own.

_Aeron is strong. He will one day leave this place to find himself on his own, with my blessing or not, but you would not_," Serén thought. _You are a dreamer, though you know nothing else apart from this life._

"…Even if it is only once, I want you to see the world outside of The Shire…but…that doesn't mean you'll dare take any unnecessary risks. Stay close to those who will accompany you, stay close to Gandalf, if anyone. There are perils you can't even imagine in this world…"

At seeing the wide-eyed looked upon her daughter's face, she sighed, and inwardly admonished herself for having raised a child so sheltered from her surroundings.

_And it was upon my own insistence. I'm a foolish woman, but that doesn't mean Aneira has to be_, she thought.

"Oh, dear Aneira, there is so much you have yet to know but…it isn't a wonder that you've taken such an interest in what you've witnessed tonight."

Aneira was confused, to say the least, but Serén was not finished.

"And yes, I know you have never been content here…do not think I haven't noticed," said Serén. Her daughter flinched slightly. "But you are naturally inquisitive, headstrong, impatient…just like your father."

Aneira grinned a bit, but Serén's words were not making any sense.

"There are things I have not told you…" she trailed, and Aneira was then taken off guard.

"Mum, what are you talking about?"

"It was selfish of us, your father and I, but the past is a tricky thing. It can hold memories best left forgotten, or some you just wish to ignore, but I realize now that it was not the right way to go about it," said Serén, who met her daughter's gaze of confusion. "There is a reason our family settled in The Shire, Aneira, and it was not a pleasant thing."

Aneira considered her mother silently for a moment. Curiosity won out.

"Tell me."

* * *

**And I shall leave it on that note. Not much for the beginning, but there is definitely more coming soon if this captures your attention somewhat. As for why someone other than a hobbit has settled in The Shire, well, that and a good many other things shall be answered in due time. Until then, feel free to leave a comment, like, dislike, (etc.) in the little review box down there. ;)**

**-E2189**


	2. The Newly Recruited and the Stowaway

_~Ere Break of Day~_

Chapter Two – The Newly Recruited and the Stowaway

When Bilbo had woken the following morning, he hadn't planned on leaving his hobbit hole past his mailbox. He hadn't planned on finding Thorin's note to meet them at the Dragonwater Inn, Bywater at 11 a.m. sharp. He hadn't planned on noticing the contract he had left upon the coffee table by the fireplace. He hadn't expected the feeling of _longing_ that coursed through him as he glanced out the window of said hobbit hole. He hadn't planned to pack a knapsack, sign the contract, and sprint down the streets of Hobbiton toward the inn.

And he certainly hadn't expected for them to have taken wages upon whether he would show up.

"My dear fellow," said Gandalf, who pocketed his pouch of "winnings" within his robes. He rode on a beautiful chestnut horse, though the sheer amount of its hair covered its eyes, while Bilbo rode a pony, which also carried various packages on its back.

"I never doubted you for a second," he finished.

Bilbo allowed himself a small smile, until he happened to sneeze rather loudly.

_This horse hair is doing nothing for my allergies_, he thought, and patted down his jacket in search of his handkerchief.

"Stop! Stop!" he shouted in alarm, and the entire company made an abrupt stop in their trek through the lush grass and tall trees. "I forgot my handkerchief, and my pipe and money, now that I think of it. We have to turn around."

"Here," said Bofur, who ripped a questionable-looking rag from his satchel, and threw it to the hobbit. Bilbo just barely caught it, but held it up with a look of distaste. Some of the dwarves laughed, but urged their horses onward at Thorin's command.

"You'll have to manage without pocket handkerchiefs, Bilbo Baggins," said Gandalf, as they rode onward. "And a good many other things before we reach our journey's end."

At Bilbo's uncertain look, Gandalf gestured to their surroundings with his staff.

"You were born to the rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire. But home is now behind you. The world is ahead."

* * *

It had already been three days, and the terrain was rapidly changing from that of hobbit-lands to that of the Lone-lands, where there were no towns, no people, and the roads were growing more rocky and uneven. In the distance, Bilbo could see hills that grew higher and would probably be more difficult to climb once they got there. But for now, they were about five miles into the Lone-lands, and they were camping for the night.

It seemed that the dwarves were now depending on the hobbit for decent meals, and left the cooking to him with the supplies they had brought with them in packages. And as they sat around the fire Dwalin had started, they ate and talked, and some sang merry tunes to keep their moods light and amiable. But soon, as the night grew later, so did many a dwarf begin to fall asleep (including poor Bilbo, who was exhausted beyond belief). Thorin charged Fili and Kili with keeping the first watch, but while the fire dwindled, it was all they could do to keep their eyes open.

"Fili, do you remember any good stories?" Kili asked with a tired grin. He was leaning against his bedroll and absently twirled an acorn he picked up from the ground between his fingers. They were sitting underneath a large oak tree, with Kili closer to its trunk and on the edge of the makeshift camp they had set up. Fili glanced over at his brother from his position at the fire, kindling it with a stick he had found in the brush.

"I'm not going to tell you one, if that's where you're headed," Fili said with a shake of his head. He whispered for the sake of the rest of the sleeping company not a few yards away.

"Why not?"

"Because it's late and everyone's asleep."

"It's never too late for a story."

"Why are you asking me now?"

"It would keep us both awake for another half hour until our turn is over, and I couldn't think of anything else," Kili reasoned. Fili sighed. Kili picked up an acorn from the ground next to him and toyed with it in his hands.

"Why don't you tell _me_ one for a change? I always have to do all the work," he said with a grin. Kili didn't respond, but simply smirked and, while his brother's attention was on the fire, threw the acorn at Fili's head.

_Yes! Direct hit! _he thought in triumph as the other yelped in pain. He turned to glare at his younger brother, who was looking at him with the most innocent expression. Fili knew better.

"What are you, a dwarfling?" he asked in annoyance, rubbing the side of his head.

"Well, younger than you at any rate," Kili quipped.

"Oh ha, ha," Fili said mockingly. "I'm not _that _much older."

"Wait, don't move, brother. The way the fire is catching your hair, I think I can see a few gray strands from here," said Kili with a grin.

"You're ten feet away, Kili," Fili said, his annoyance seeping into his tone.

"I happen to have excellent eyesight," Kili retorted. But it was then that both brothers heard a creaking noise, originating from somewhere above them. They paused and shared a look.

"Maybe it's the wind," Kili suggested. But he had the feeling that it was not nature that was stirring.

"There_ is _no wind tonight, you dunce," Fili muttered. They heard another creak, louder this time. There was something there, both could agree, and most likely in the tree from the sound of it. Kili slowly stood, reaching for his sword. But before he could grab onto it, there was a prolonged creaking accompanied by a set of snapping sounds, before a branch fell to the ground. A second later, a shrill shriek sounded as a dark blur fell from the tree, and onto Kili. He tumbled painfully onto his back, and groaned in pain as he tried to view his attacker through dazed eyes.

The sounds of the tree branch falling and the screams woke the rest of the company, who quickly came to Fili and Kili's aid. They were confused, however, at seeing Kili shakily rising to a sitting position on the ground. Meanwhile, Fili raised the potential threat off of his brother by grabbing their arms and hoisting them up.

Thorin stepped up to the figure, short in stature with their head bowed, and immediately demanded answers.

"Who dares to attack—" he began angrily, but when a head of mussed, dark hair rose, he saw the frightened eyes of a young woman. His own eyes widened in surprise, and his brows furrowed in confusion. Kili stood then, and walked closer to Fili and his supposed assailant, just as dumbstruck as the rest of them.

"_Aneira?_" Bilbo choked out in his shock. The dwarves looked at the hobbit then.

"You know her?" accused Thorin, who regarded the hobbit dubiously. He glanced at Gandalf, who watched with a blank expression. Only the subtle, upward twitch of his mouth gave him away to anyone paying close enough attention.

"Y-Yes," Bilbo stammered, coming closer to the girl as well. He looked from her to Thorin, slightly nervous at having everyone's attention.

"She's my neighbor," he said, and viewed Aneira with a shake of his head.

"Hello, Mr. Baggins," she said quietly, and with a tremor in her voice. Her eyes were still wide and afraid of what the dwarves might do to her. She had seen the one she had fallen on look for his sword right before the branch had broken, sending her tumbling below. "And hello, Gandalf, it really is nice to see you again."

"I had wondered…" Gandalf murmured, but then cast it off to greet the young woman.

"Good evening, Aneira. It is interesting to see you here amongst the plant life, once again. But do tell me, what are you doing _here?_" he asked wryly. Aneira swallowed, her nerves getting the better of her.

"Well…it's a bit of a long story…" she trailed, and glanced at Thorin, who was still regarding her with an exasperated look, and the other dwarf not too far from her—the one she had fallen on—who stared at her strangely, and then to Bilbo, who still seemed shocked just to see her here with them in the middle of a forest.

"And I'm sure I could guess it, but come. Let us sit by the warmth of the fire, and Fili, do let go of the girl. She is no threat," said Gandalf. Even so, Fili did let go with a glance at Thorin, who nodded minutely. They gathered in a circle and Gandalf proceeded to send Aneira with a look that clearly said, "_Well, what do you have to say for yourself?_"

"I'm sorry," said Aneira with a sigh. "I heard you all talking that night at Mr. Baggins' house, and…well, the things which you spoke of were some of the stories I had grown up with as a child."

"What stories?" Thorin demanded from his seat across from her, irritation and incredulity laced in his tone. Aniera paused for a moment, intimidated by his brash manner, but she replied all the same.

"I…well, I've heard of you, of the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain forced into exile…my father recounted it well," she said, earning a raised brow from the dwarf. "And that night, not only did I find that the stories were true, but there was also a way to return the dwarves of Erebor and the men of Dale to their homes…and a way for me to escape the Shire."

The dwarves all regarded her with some measure of disbelief and distrust, but with the deep frown their leader was sporting, none interrupted the girl further in her explanation.

"While the thought of joining your expedition did excite me, it was the pushing of my mother for me to join you that had me packing. My brother was directly opposed to it, but under my mother's wishes, he allowed me to borrow his horse. I have been following you since you left Bag End. I know I was not invited, but I couldn't, in good conscience, let the opportunity pass me by.

"It was because of this that I followed you from a distance, resting when you rested, making camp when you made camp. It was tricky timing when you woke in the morning, but I heard you all when you ate breakfast and followed suit."

"Adventure is all you seek then, an escape?" Thorin asked incredulously.

"No, not an escape. I want to help you," Aneira said earnestly, looking around to each of the dwarves, Bilbo, and Gandalf.

"And why is that, lass?" asked Balin. "Perhaps to get a cut of the dragon's hoard?"

Many of the dwarves grumbled and protested at this, but Aneira refuted this wholly.

"No! That's not it," she said sharply, temporarily quieting them. "I…well, my family…my _father_…he fled his home in the mountain when the dragon drove away the residents of Erebor and Dale and captured the Lonely Mountain. He was forced to the Blue Mountains where he later met my mother, a lady of Dale.

"Feeling that the mountains reminded them too much of the lives they had lost, the two of them journeyed east to the Shire where they settled, almost twenty years ago…my family has dearly felt the loss that you have felt, and to honor my father's memory, I wish to help you restore what has been lost."

There was a thoughtful pause, in which none spoke as they ruminated over her tale. Thorin especially scrutinized her carefully through a narrowed gaze, silently vacillating in his mind if it was worth taking in yet another member to their group.

"Why the Shire?" Bilbo asked, now very curious about Aneira's family. He hadn't known about their secret, but had always thought they were gentlefolk, and sensible people. When he glanced over at Gandalf, however, there was something in the wizard's eyes that contrasted with his outward appearance of indifference—something that elicited Bilbo's curiosity. But he was distracted by Aneira's answering of his abrupt question.

"Well, my mother told me that they wanted to settle somewhere peaceful, somewhere far from mountains and the trade of blacksmiths and miners. There were others who set out to Hobbiton, and so my parents did the same," she said, but then she paused and met Thorin's piercing gaze.

"How do we know she speaks the truth?" Fili asked, raising some murmurs of agreement. Thorin raised a brow at the worthy question.

"Yes, that is a point," he said, and looked down at the girl. "You could simply be a good liar."

_A very good liar._

"She is not lying," Gandalf interjected, cutting off what would have been Aneira's indignant reply. "I met her father by chance on the road, and he related a similar story."

Thorin regarded the wizard.

"You are sure?"

"If his demeanor in light of his recent struggles wasn't any indication of his heritage, his sword and clothing were also of dwarven make," Gandalf affirmed. "You off all people know that Dwarvish weaponry is not something that can be easily replicated."

Thorin was silent for a moment in contemplation, until Aneira spoke once again.

"I know you have no reason to allow me to join you, but my reasons are true," she said. "And I will do my best to help in any way that I am able."

"And how exactly can you help us?" he asked bluntly, taking Aneira off guard. "You have not the skill of a warrior, nor the morale of one, I shouldn't think."

"Well…" she trailed, rolling the question around her brain, as his comments rung painfully true. How _could_ she be of use? "Hobbits are not the only ones adept in stealth. I followed you for three days."

"And what happened tonight?" asked Dwalin, who crossed his arms and raised a brow. "I do not suppose that was the work of one 'adept in stealth.'"

Aneira bit her lip before a nervous chuckle escaped her.

"I, um…I tried to get a closer look at you all. I could hear your stories and rather interesting recounts…but I fell asleep sitting in the tree, and when I almost fell, the branch began to creak. Then, before I knew it, I was falling…" She glanced over at Kili, who glared at her, and Fili, who was trying hard to restrain a chuckle at his brother's expense. "It was purely an accident."

"Likely story," Kili mumbled, but Fili elbowed him "gently" in the ribs.

"In any case, if it is truly your desire to come along," said Gandalf, shifting the conversation. "And even if Serén has given you her blessing, I warn you, Aneira, it will be dangerous. There will not always be green grass and shady trees, and…we cannot guarantee your safety."

"I know, Gandalf, but…there is nothing I've ever wanted more in my life than this," she said, though her gaze was on Thorin; he had yet to make a decision. He looked at his kin, then to the wizard. He seemed to think it was a good idea to let the human come with them, even if she was a woman, and had most likely never trained with a weapon, let alone seen battle. But Thorin had allowed Bilbo Baggins, dead weight as far as the dwarf was concerned. Even _this_ girl had more cause to join them than the hobbit.

"Are you so quick to throw your life away?" Thorin asked, and at Aneira's wide-eyed stare, he turned to the wizard. "She will only be a hindrance, and I will not be carrying any more upon this journey. It will be perilous as it is without another endangering the lives of my company."

Aneira gaped in disbelief, truly baffled at the stubbornness of dwarves.

"B-But I have no knowledge of how to return home," she protested. Thorin stood, not deterred by her fumbling excuses in the least.

"We'll draw you a map."

"And what if I am killed on my way back? I have no weapons!" Aneira retorted as she also stood, matching Thorin's firm resilience with her own.

"You took the chance of following us this far, and the path forward will be much more dangerous, I assure you," he replied tersely.

"But I know of your quest!" He stilled, a chilling glare etched upon his face.

"Why should that matter?" His voice was low, with an underlying tone of both threat and warning. The tense silence was thick on the air, making every awkward shift of fabric and crackle of fire audible.

"This mission," Aneira spoke slowly, cautiously, and her eyes were trained on no other but the dwarf. She wanted her words and their meaning to be as clear as the diamonds dwarves were so fond of. "…I would imagine, requires a good deal of secrecy, if you are not to be opposed by outsiders who would try to claim the riches of the mountain for their own."

There was a dissent among the dwarves then, some daring her to openly threaten them, while others, namely Balin, attempted to quite them and let their leader handle the situation. Thorin's gaze on her was icy, and she immediately regretted her words. It was a tactic she hadn't meant to use to persuade them, and she feared would only alienate herself more, even if Thorin gave in.

"And…how do you suppose they would oppose us?" he asked, a warning in both his words and in his demeanor. Aneira backtracked, not wanting to bring the anger of all of the dwarves upon her.

"I apologize, I didn't mean…" she hesitated, and breathed a sigh before looking to her feet. "I would not tell anyone of your quest, even if you sent me away. It was wrong of me to suggest otherwise."

None spoke, but the begrudging acceptance of her apology was visible on only some of the dwarves' faces, while others looked at her in annoyance and suspicion for her audacity, namely Thorin Oakenshield, who regarded her with a narrowed gaze.

"But I only want to see the land my father died _still_ yearning for," she admitted softly. It stirred something involuntary within Thorin, to his chagrin. But he let nothing show outwardly, even as she next spoke.

"I don't want to cause trouble for you, and I don't want any of the dragon's hoard, or a hero's title, or anything else but what I've told you tonight: to honor my father's memory, and see for myself what both he and my mother were forced to leave behind—the legacy we _both_ share."

Despite her words that _might_ have elicited pity on some of the other members of his company, Thorin simply didn't trust her. Moreover, he didn't like her. She seemed naïve at first glance, but when pushed, he was sure her tongue would likely get her into greater trouble. That, or her ignorance of the world. And yet…

_No, the hobbit is enough. We need no more dragging us down_, he thought. And yet, she had justified reason. Her family had been one of thousands affected by why they themselves were now assembled, but did this make her no different than the rest of them? Toymakers, miners, and craftsmen; "hardly the stuff of legends," as Balin had so eloquently put.

He was sure he would live just long enough to regret this decision.

"We leave early on the morrow, so I suggest you all get some sleep. Especially you," Thorin said, addressing Aneira. Despite his warning, she couldn't help but smile in gratitude. The dwarves reluctantly got up and returned to their bedrolls, but Thorin, Gandalf, Bilbo, and Aneira stayed where they were.

"Where have you made camp?" asked Thorin.

"Not too far from here, a few minutes' walk," said Aneira.

"Well, one of the dwarves, I'm sure, can escort you to retrieve your horse and your supplies…and Bilbo, why don't you help her collect her things?" said Gandalf. Bilbo paused for a moment, then nodded, while Thorin gave Gandalf an annoyed look. He probably would have asked his nephews to come and do this task, but they had already been awake on watch for half the night. They needed their sleep as much as any of them. Instead, he beckoned Bofur and Bifur over, and as the two dwarves made their way across the camp, Aniera looked up at Thorin, doing her best to hide her grateful smile.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"Don't thank me, it's only common courtesy," Thorin replied curtly.

"Not only for that. I mean for letting me join you." He glanced at her, though she looked ahead toward the fire, shying away from his gaze. Even with her sudden reticence, he sensed sincerity in her tone and demeanor.

"Let me be clear," he began. "I am allowing you to travel with us, but the moment you endanger a member of my company, I don't care where we are or where you decide to go. You will be on your own."

With his heavy stare, she nodded, slightly wide-eyed even as she didn't want to appear intimidated.

"You have cause," said Thorin. _Despite my better judgment._ "Time will tell if you were worth the wager."

* * *

**Let me know what you thought! Things are going to be a little slow at first, but I have a clear plan for this story even if it seems like everything you've read already in the Hobbit fandom. I would, however, appreciate feedback and suggestions if you have them!**


	3. Sugar, Spice, and Not so Nice

_~Ere Break of Day~_

Chapter Three – Sugar, Spice, and Not so Nice Accommodations

They departed a little late that morning due to the events of the night before. But they were off into parts unknown to both Bilbo and Aneira, though Bilbo was the only one who seemed a bit skittish by the collection of rocky hills they were climbing with their horses. Something within Aneira embraced their height and depth, and she enjoyed seeing the earth twenty to thirty feet below. It made her feel both large and small at the same time; to be able to see it all, yet knowing there was still so much she didn't know.

Bilbo, on the other hand, would have felt much safer on the ground, and was glad when they came to a pass where the rocky land broke way to grassy plain in the distance, and not far off, the beginnings of a forest could be seen. But for now, because the sun was nearly set, they made camp by the overhang of a cliff, where they sat and set up a fire underneath. Aneira helped Bilbo with making supper and chopped the vegetables for him.

Her movements were slow, however. For all she enjoyed the scenery, she was _tired_. After riding nonstop for almost a week, how could she not be? Her thighs ached from where she clutched the horse to keep from falling, along with the rest of her body that was unaccustomed to sleeping on hard earth with rocks and twigs and heavens knew what else. Already there was a fatigue that seemed to set in her very bones, and just to stand while chopping with the knife was an exertion.

"Could you hand me that spice over there?" asked Bilbo.

"Where? I don't see it."

"It's red and um…grainy. Yes, grainy."

"I'm not sure…" Aneira looked in the satchels that carried the supplies, but she didn't see what he was talking about.

"You would think a girl would know how to find a simple spice," Fili remarked as he passed a cloth over his sword. Ori restrained a snigger from his seat on the floor by Fili.

"She doesn't quite seem the homemaker type," Kili quipped, earning a glare from Aneira as she picked up the spice from the ground. It had fallen near her foot when she opened one of the satchels. The two had paid her no heed for the most part for the past couple of days they had been travelling, so it surprised her that they were taking the time to poke fun. But she had also noticed that the two were not ones to pass up on a jest.

"You both have been doing a fine job of ignoring my presence so far, why stop now?" she asked, addressing the two before making a pointed glance at Kili, who stopped to stand not two feet from her. "I think _you're_ just sore because I flattened you."

Kili's brows rose in incredulity, and it was Fili's turn to cover a snigger. Ori snorted a laugh in his attempts to restrain himself, earning a strange look from Bofur.

"I assure you, that is hardly the case," said Kili, with an unimpressed expression.

"Well, then speak plainly," she said in irritation, and planted her arms on her hips as she fully faced the dwarf. He stood a mere two inches above her own height, but she was insecure all the same. Unfamiliar as she might have been to many things, she understood the underlying meanings beneath their seemingly light teasing.

"Begging your pardon, my lady, but it's simple; an expedition of this nature isn't meant for a gentlewoman such as yourself." His eyes held a gleam of amusement, but she could tell he was being sincere on the matter.

"Who says I am gentle?" she asked with a grin and a glint in her eye that could _almost_ be construed as intimidating.

"The fact that you've been complaining of aches and pains for the last day and a half, and it's only natural of one inexperienced in horseback riding," said Kili.

_Or one's inexperience in general_, he thought wryly.

"As well as sleeping in areas which some, such as yourself, would consider uncivilized," added Fili.

"So, you think I am unfit to join your company because I'm not a trained warrior," said Aneira with a raised brow.

Both brothers shared a brief look before turning back to her.

"Yes, that about sums it up," Kili nodded. Aneira gave them both a cold glare.

"Look, it is what it is," said Fili. "Even these forests are dangerous, and we have much ground to cover in more treacherous lands before we even come within a _mile_ of the dragon's stronghold."

Aneira knew they were patronizing her, but even she could admit there was some truth in their words. She just didn't know why she was still listening to them.

_Because they only voice the thoughts of their entire group…maybe it wasn't such a good idea to come after all_, she thought. And even as Fili continued to speak, she felt herself growing wearier with both her lack of uninterrupted sleep and her sore limbs from the days of long riding. There was nothing she could use to steady herself, however. Bilbo was a short distance away, preparing the stew, while the rest of the dwarves (save for the brothers in front of her) sat closer to the fire.

"You're trembling," said Kili, interjecting in the middle of Fili's sentence. Aniera looked up and met his trained gaze. He was right. Her hands shook, as well as her legs from standing in one place for so long. She saw some concern in his countenance, which surprised her, considering the smirks and the teasing she had been subject to as of late.

"I—" She wanted to say that she was fine and didn't require _any_ assistance. But in the step she took backward her foot faltered on a stone in the uneven ground. Aniera gasped as she began to fall, but a pair of hands firmly gripped her upper arms. Looking up sharply, startled eyes of deep grey met dark brown.

"And now you can barely stand," Kili murmured, but his eyes were playful as he steadied her, and guided her to sit on her bedroll that lay some few steps away.

"Are you all right?" Fili asked.

_So these dwarves are not as calloused as I would have thought_, she mused dryly. _But they can be quite annoying._

"'M fine," Aniera mumbled. Her pride held her back from thanking Kili, but he didn't seem to mind that much. He simply chuckled while he shook his head.

"You probably haven't worked a day in your life," he said with a pitying grin. Aneira sent him as cold a look as she could muster.

"Don't presume you know anything about me," she stated, trying with all her might to keep her voice _somewhat_ civil.

She said no more than this, but her point was clear. Aneira turned away from the dwarf and despite her obvious exhaustion, she returned to Bilbo. The hobbit had carefully avoided the conversation, but didn't admit that he had heard anything. Instead, he asked her if she was all right. She wasn't, but she assured her neighbor that she was anyway. Fili and Kili's blatantly honest words had stung, more than they knew, but she refused to let them affect her any more than they already had.

_It's not worth it_, she thought. _Let them believe what they want to believe._

* * *

It was later that night, after they had supped that many of the dwarves tried to sleep (Aneira as well), but for others, their attempts were in vain—including none other than Bilbo Baggins. He got up from his bedroll and wandered off to the edge of camp, toward the rocky cliff where the horses rested. He found his pony, and dug out an apple from his pocket. He offered it to the pony, which graciously ate from his hand.

"There you go, Myrtle. This is our little secret, but you must tell no one, sh, sh," he whispered while petting the animal fondly on the head.

A great shriek reverberated through the air. It made him jump, though it was easily judged to be far off in the distance. The sound alarmed Bilbo, nonetheless.

"What-what was that?" he turned and asked Fili and Kili, who sat with their backs resting against the wall of the cave.

"Orcs," said Kili. Bilbo's eyes widened, and he ventured closer to the rest of the dwarves.

"Orcs?" he repeated uncertainly.

"Throat-cutters," said Fili, and he brought his pipe to his lips in order to mask his grin. One would have thought the two would have had their fill of teasing for the night, but they couldn't resist an easy target. "There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them."

"They strike in the wee small hours when everyone is asleep—quick and quiet, no screams," Kili added with as serious an expression as he could muster. "Just lots of blood."

Gandalf watched from a little ways away, shaking his head as he smoked on his pipe.

Kili turned to his brother then. Both shared a glance and a chuckle before their uncle interrupted them.

"You think that's funny, do you?" he asked gruffly, and stood from his spot beside the cave. Bilbo turned at the sound of his voice. "You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

"We didn't mean anything by it," Kili said solemnly, giving up on jest.

"No, of _course_ you didn't," Thorin replied sardonically. He walked toward the horses. "You know _nothing_ of the world."

Thorin's voice woke Aneira from what had been a sound sleep. She pushed away her annoyance as she looked up to see Balin approaching the two young brothers.

"Don't mind him, laddie," Balin said quietly, addressing Kili. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs."

Fili looked up at Balin in question, while Kili glanced at him before staring into the fire.

"After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thrór tried to retake the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But Moria had already been taken by legions orcs, led by the vilest of all their race: Azog, the Defiler, an orc who had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began…by beheading the king."

Bilbo glanced over at Thorin. He stood with their backs to them with his hands braced behind his back, a few yards from the edge of the cliff.

"Thráin, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief and disappeared, taken prisoner or killed. We were left leaderless; defeat and death were undoubtedly upon us…but _that_ is when I saw him," Balin said with a small smile. "A young dwarf prince faced down the Pale Orc. He stood alone against him. His weapons gone, and wielding nothing more than an oak branch as a shield. Just as Azog would have cleaved him in two, Thorin grabbed onto a nearby sword from a fallen warrior and cut off the orc's meaty hand.

"And Azog the Defiler learned that day, that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. He was carried away by some of his vermin kin, down to the depths of the mountain. Our forces rallied, and we were able to push the orcs back.

"Thorin led his people to victory that day, our enemy defeated…but there was no feast or song that night. For our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived, but as I stared up at him rising above the carnage of that day, I thought to myself then, _there_ is one who I could follow. _There_ is one I could call '_king_.'"

Balin's recount had stirred the dwarves, and they had all been listening, moved by their leader's courage and valor. They looked to him then as he walked back toward the cave.

"And the Pale Orc?" Bilbo asked quietly. "What happened to him?"

"That _filth_ slunk back into the hole of whence he came," said Thorin, "anddied of his wounds long ago."

For a moment, Bilbo was relieved, until he glanced over at Gandalf. The wizard had a peculiar expression upon his face, and he set his pipe down as he met the hobbit's gaze. The feeling of unease inexplicably returned then, but Bilbo remained silent.

* * *

"_Have you _completely_ and _utterly_ lost your mind?"_

"_Please, brother, don't shout. Mum is resting."_

"_It's for her sake that I'm trying to knock sense back into you!" said Aeron, gesticulating wildly with his arms. "How do you think your leaving will affect this household? What position that puts me in? How could you even _think _about disappearing who knows where—why are we even having this conversation in the first place?"_

_Aneira sighed, covering her eyes with a hand. Her brother's anger and frustration was nearly palpable as they argued in the kitchen, not three hours until daybreak. He had walked in as she was preparing the provisions she would carry, awoken by Aneira's clumsy fumble with an iron pan. She'd had no choice but to tell him of what she planned to do and try explaining it to him in the most practical of ways. Yet it seemed that Aeron was less than enthused._

_She dropped her hand to her side and stepped closer to her brother. _

I _need_ to make him understand_, she thought._

"_It's our only chance, Aeron. You know this. I can _save_ her, I know I can. Don't you ever wonder what our life would be like if we didn't have to struggle for every scrap of provision and treatment that keeps Mother's symptoms at bay? That she could be finally cured and be given peace?" Aneira paused for a moment before laying a hand on his shoulder._

"…_If we were able to give _all_ of us a better life?" Aeron turned his gaze from his sister, though he did nothing to remove her hand. He did not want to hear of this, though he knew she worried for him. In truth, it wasn't the workload that concerned him if she were to embark on such a quest; it was for her safety that he cared for. He couldn't readily allow her to do such a ridiculous thing as this, even if her intentions were pure. He shrugged off her hand instead._

"_Aneira, never mind that. You are possibly the least qualified to join an expedition of this nature! Do you know of the perils that lie outside the Shire?" He did not wait for her to reply, because he already knew the answer. "Of course not! But you're not considering these things, are you? You're only thinking of a frail possibility, of something that existed over a hundred years ago, and probably has been destroyed for decades!"_

_Aneira knew his argument held merit, but she couldn't bring herself to extinguish the flame that had been ignited within her upon the first story their father had ever told them. The flame that had been smothered into a simmer for her twenty two years, and upon this night, fanned into a full-blown brush fire. This sheer determination she had never before felt only burned as she thought of what she could attain for their mother, the peace and healing there; or for her brother—the freedom to choose his own path, to pursue the daydreams only she knew he held clandestine; or the desire she herself possessed—to see what it was the world had to offer, of what is was that was so magnificent that had cast a wistful glaze in her father's eyes and a melancholy song in his heart._

"_I will regret it forever, Aeron." Her statement was simple, but held so much more than what spoken word could utter; something she knew her brother could see and understand as she gazed deeply into his eyes, the grey-blue of a storm. They mirrored the inward battle of his own conflicting thoughts._

_She grasped his hands, calloused and chilled in the cool night that they were, in her own, and kissed them gently. It was a silent offering of comfort and a plea of forgiveness all at once._

"_I remember when I used to do this for you when we were children," she began, covering her smaller hands with his and rubbing them until they warmed. _

"…_Whenever I was upset, or had a nightmare," Aeron recalled, both reflective and somber as he passed his thumbs over her thin fingers. Aneira's small smile was her reply, and it was all Aeron needed before he let out a long sigh._

"_You've always been at my side, no matter what is was or what I was feeling, you always knew exactly how to take care of me," he said, his tone forlorn as he gazed down at his sister. _

"_You've always been here to love me and support me…I suppose I'm just not used to the idea of you _not_ being here…who will I look to, sister?" _

_Aneira's eyes began to pool with unshed tears, until eventually they began to slide down against her will. Her brother's despondent expression, as if he would never again see her face, broke her heart and for a moment shook her resolve. But it was only then that she knew he truly understood._

"_Oh…Aeron, I will _always_ be with you, even if I cannot be here to _care_ for you."_

"Aneira! You're wandering in the wrong direction!"

"Oh, oh my. Thank you, Mr. Baggins, I didn't realize…"

"Are you daydreaming again? You know Thorin won't wait for you if you go wandering off."

Aneira gave him a wry glance, but began steering her pony away from the trail she had been steadily following in the direction shy of where the dwarves were headed. She glanced up at the sullen sky, which was thick and firmly blanketed over the sun. It cast a gloomy setting on the day's trek up green slopes and brush, and around large oak trees.

"Don't remind me—it would save him the effort of dumping me in some forgotten ditch," she replied in annoyance, though she mumbled most of the last bit to herself. Bilbo caught most of it, nonetheless.

"I'm sure he wouldn't go to such great lengths to be rid of you, Aneira," said the hobbit, trying his best to placate her. Aneira rolled her eyes, despite however much she knew it was ill-mannered.

"Oh, Mr. Baggins, let's face it: he hasn't been the most hospitable to either of us, and _you_ were actually invited," she remarked. Bilbo only sighed and shook his head, though he did nothing to deny her statement. How could he? As far as he could see, his only use on this journey thus far was culinary.

By the time the two had caught up to Bombur and Bifur, who were bringing up the rear of the group, rain began to fall in a trickle.

"Looks like we're in for a downpour," said Bofur. He rode just a little ways ahead of Aneira and Bilbo, and his cousin and brother. Aneira gave him a curious look.

"It's only a light rain," she protested. It was barely enough to wet her leather coat, which was keeping her warm against the cool winds drifting through the trees.

"Just you wait, lass," he said with a small chuckle.

Sure enough, it was pouring in abundance by lunchtime.

All were drenched and sopping as the horses slipped and slid in the mud, making their riders irritable. Even the normally mild-mannered Bofur snapped testily at Bombur, who had asked quite impatiently (yet again) when they would stop and rest. Some of the dwarves even tried in vain to smoke from their pipes in attempt to lighten their moods. But the rain continued for days on end, only letting up sporadically during the night and allowing them somewhat peaceful sleep—if a bit cold and wet and uncomfortable. But it was on the final day of pouring rain that some—namely Aneira—found themselves having enough to do with rainwater and mud to last a lifetime.

"Mr. Gandalf," Dori yelled over the onslaught of rainwater hitting the earth. "Can't you do something about this accursed rain?"

_Obviously he hasn't heard of the wizard's strictness upon excluding honorifics_, Aneira could not help but think.

"It is raining, Master Dwarf," Gandalf said dryly, not bothering to turn and look at the thoroughly drenched, thoroughly exasperated dwarf. "And it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather, I suggest you find yourself another wizard."

Aneira restrained a laugh, but could not help grinning privately at the wizard's sharp-witted words. She shared a knowing look with Bilbo. Despite being disgruntled by the weather as well, he raised a brow at her before looking up at Gandalf, who rode beside them.

"Are there any?" Bilbo asked. Gandalf turned at the sound of the hobbit's voice.

"What?"

"Any other wizards," he clarified. Gandalf nodded absently.

"Yes, in fact there are five of us: the greatest of our order is Sauroman, the White. Then there are the two blue wizards…though I've quite forgotten their names," he said with a short chuckle.

"And who is the fifth?" asked Bilbo, by now quite curious by the curiously small amount of wizards there actually were. Not that Gandalf had ever given the impression that there were many, but Bilbo had expected there to be more than merely five. Unbeknownst to him, Aneira had been undergoing the same thought process, and thought it odd that an entire race could be comprised of so few, but she was interested in what would be the wizard's response.

"That would be…Radagast, the Brown," Gandalf recounted.

"Is he a great wizard?" asked Bilbo. "Or…is he more like you?"

Aneira had to cover her mouth with a hand to stop the fit of laughter that was bubbling up into her throat, and while Gandalf sent both of them a disparaging look, he graciously replied.

"I think he is a very _great_ wizard…in his own way," said Gandalf. "He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps an eye over the vast forest lands to the East, and a good thing too; evil will always try to find a foothold in this world."

When Gandalf had rode ahead of the two to join Thorin at the front, Aneira confided in Bilbo of a passing thought rolling around inside her head, one that simply wouldn't leave her be.

"I wonder what the other wizards are like, Mr. Baggins," she said as she looked ahead to the forest before them. "And I wonder if I will ever get to meet all of them…surely not, but it's a nice idea—to one day return to the Shire and tell all the village folk of our travels, 'I saw forests and mountains and sights never-before-seen, and I met all kinds of new people, including all of the great wizards!'"

Bilbo regarded her with an amused smile at her imagination and enthusiasm, even as his horse slipped a bit on a particularly rugged patch of terrain.

"Perhaps one day you will…anything is possible."

* * *

It was later that same day that the rain finally met its end, and decided to take a reprieve for the exhausted company to settle under the overhand of large trees and an abandoned structure of wood and rock that appeared to be the dilapidated remains of an old house. Aneira watched as Gandalf viewed the soaked frame of what had once been a doorway with some confusion, and something more in his expression she could not name.

"A farmer and his family once lived here…" If she had not been in such close proximity, she wouldn't have heard Gandalf's pensive murmur.

"We camp here for the night," declared Thorin as he dismounted from his pony, which prompted him to send his nephews to look after the rest of the ponies while Oin and Gloin began starting the fire.

"I think it would be wiser to move on," Gandalf advised, and Thorin turned to gaze up at the wizard, his expression impassive.

"It is not yet dark; we could make to the Hidden Valley."

"I told you already…I will _not_ go near that place."

"And why not? The elves could _help_ us. We could get food, rest, advice—"

"I do not need _advice_, Gandalf. And I would not deign to find refuge with the likes of _them_," Thorin cut in tersely, looking away to settle his pack down on the ground. Gandalf raised a greyed brow. He restrained a sigh of annoyance as he leaned against his staff.

"We have the map in our possession," he reminded patiently. "And we have agreed Lord Elrond could help us."

"And what help came from the _elves_ when the dragon took Erebor?" Thorin sneered—not at Gandalf directly, but at the very idea of once again requesting help from those who turned their backs on him and his people. He spared a glance at the rest of the dwarves, who quietly spectated on the conversation as they tended to their tasks.

"Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls," he began, and returned his gaze to the wizard. "The elves looked on and did _nothing_. Yet you ask me to seek the help of a people who betrayed my grandfather…betrayed my father."

Here Gandalf interjected, having had enough of what he had been hearing since the start of their journey.

"You are neither of them, Thorin," Gandalf said pointedly. "I did not give you that map and key so that you could hold on to the _past_."

"I did not know they were yours to keep," the dwarf remarked icily. This time the wizard did let out an exasperated huff, and began walking in the opposite direction.

"Everything all right?" Bilbo asked as he pat his pony, Myrtle, on the nose. Gandalf walked past and toward his horse with a grim determination in his countenance. "Gandalf?"

"Where are you going?" Aneira questioned from her position at Bilbo's left side, with Balin on the right.

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense," the wizard quipped, not pausing in his long stride across the camp.

"And who's that?" Bilbo asked.

"_Myself, Bilbo Baggins!_" Gandalf shouted, clearly at his wits end if he was already losing his temper with the hobbit, of all people. "I've quite had enough of dwarves for one day."

Aneira glanced over at the dwarf leader, who appeared undeterred by the wizard's departure, and looked down upon the hobbit from the upraised hill from which the ruins of the house stood.

"Come on Bilbo, we're hungry," he commanded. The hobbit inclined his head nervously to Balin.

"Is he coming back?" Balin seemed at a loss for words, but a near panic was beginning to well within Aneira. She'd just lost the only being of influence that seemed to be on her side, and somehow, despite her neighbor's presence, she felt that much more alone within this group of strangers. Not that she'd known the wizard for long either, but he had defended her. More than once. And that was more than she could say for even Bilbo.

_And now he's gone_, she thought, as Gandalf's horse galloped over the hill and into the darkening afternoon.

* * *

**Chapter for your thoughts? I'm fresh out of pennies. The plot bunny I work with tends to steal them in recompense for ideas. Leave your comments/likes/dislikes in a review and I promise to consider all of them! ;)**

**Until next time…**


	4. The Gift of Persuasion

_~Ere Break of Day~_

Chapter Four – The Gift of Persuasion

Lighting a fire was harder than it looked—especially while camping under rain-slicked trees.

_Drip…_

_Drip…_

_Drip…_

"Confound this rainwater!" Gloin muttered. He and his brother had been attempting to sustain an easy-going fire for fifteen minutes, and neither the _dripping _nor the wind was allowing it. But even when the wind lightened enough to allow for a fire to be started, and the stew to be boiled, they had not enough seasoning to give it much flavor. But there was stew nonetheless, thanks to Bilbo and Bofur who assisted him.

Bowls were given, though Bilbo peered over the hill in the dark, stiff and uneasy.

"Bilbo, please come and sit. Or at least eat something. You've been standing there for ten minutes," said Aneira, patting a spot beside her on her bedroll.

"He's been a long time," he said. Although he was not addressing her in his statement, he obliged by drawing near to Bofur, who was still serving bowls of stew.

"Who?" asked the dwarf. He shooed away Bombur's greedy fingers for the ladle.

"Gandalf," Bilbo clarified.

"He's a wizard, he does as he chooses," said Bofur. He filled two bowls and handed them to Bilbo.

"Here, here's a favor. Take this to the lads, will you?" He gestured to the right with his head, toward the depths of the forest where Fili and Kili were still keeping watch. Aneira had no appreciation for the two rowdy dwarves who had been pestering her to no end, most likely out of their own boredom. But she could see the exhaustion in the hobbit's demeanor and caught the slight tremor in his fingers as he grasped the bowls.

"Here Mr. Baggins, I'll help you," she said, albeit reluctantly as she took one of the bowls from him. The hobbit thanked her, and together they trekked around the bend until they reached said dwarves. However, they were standing in a curious manner, as if they had seen a ghost walk past. Bilbo would have offered the bowl to Kili, but neither appeared to be interested in food at the moment.

"And what's the matter?" asked Bilbo.

"We're supposed to be looking after the ponies," said Kili.

"Only we've encountered a…slight problem," Fili continued. Aneira glanced at both dwarves with a raised brow in silent question.

"We _had_ sixteen," said Kili.

"Now there's…fourteen," Fili finished. And Bilbo and Aneira gazed ahead toward where the ponies were contentedly grazing…all of fourteen of them. They walked further into the makeshift enclosure and found that it was Daisy and Bungo that were missing. Large oaks had been knocked down and broken, along with deep depressions into the muddy earth.

"Well…this isn't good," said Aneira. Kili sent her an unimpressed look.

"Figure that out on your own, did you?" he replied dryly. She pulled a sour face at him, no matter that it was childish behavior. She was tired, wet, cold, and annoyed that he and his brother wouldn't just _take_ the bowls of stew in her and Bilbo's hands already, even if they were investigating a possible theft.

"Shouldn't we tell Thorin?" said Bilbo, who pointed to a rather large, uprooted tree. "_That_ is not good at all."

"Ah…no, let's not worry him," said Fili. "As our official burglar, we thought…_you_ would like to look into it."

They walked further into the forest, assessing all of the damage. And Aneira regarded the dwarves suspiciously and they motioned for Bilbo to take charge.

_Wait a second, what are they getting at? _she thought.

"Aha, well, something…big, uprooted these trees," Bilbo pointed out.

"That was our thinking," Fili agreed, though Aneira couldn't decide if his statement was genuine, or if it was made in sarcasm. He held his guard too well for her to discern anything from her own musings.

"And possibly quite dangerous," Bilbo finished.

"No kidding," Aneira muttered as she viewed a jagged stump of what had been a very wide tree.

"Hey, there's a light," said Kili. He pointed to their left and gestured for his brother to come closer. "Over there, see?"

The four of them drew closer to an orangey hue that stuck out against the darkened green foliage.

"Stay down," Fili warned, lightly pushing his brother's head down with him closer to the ground. They heard the sound of deep, throaty laughter, and as they drew even closer, a foul stench could be noted in the air.

"What _is_ that?" asked Aneira, covering her nose in disgust. Kili peered ahead, catching the outline of a rather large figure standing over a rather large cauldron, not unlike the smaller one they had back in their camp.

"_Trolls_," he replied in distaste.

"No sooner had he said this that a great rustling an whinnying sounded from a short distance behind them, and they ducked their heads even farther down toward the earth to avoid being seen by the troll that stomped past.

"It's got Myrtle and Minty!" Bilbo whispered furiously as he clutched the bowl in both his hands. He let out a sigh of frustration. "We have to do something!"

_Oh no… _Aneira thought. She saw the opportunistic looks upon the brothers' faces, and the mischievous glint in their eyes.

"Yes, you should," Kili whispered, and he got up and pushed Bilbo along, taking the bowl from him as they went.

"Trolls are large and stupid and you're so small, they'll never see you," said Kili, despite Bilbo's protests. "It's perfectly safe!"

"Why don't _you_ do it then?" Aneira remarked. "You're not that much bigger than he is."

Kili restrained himself from glaring at her, and instead, merely gave her a cursory glance before addressing Bilbo.

"Because _he_ is our burglar, and is far more suited to the task," said Kili. He turned to address the hobbit once more. "And we'll be right behind you."

Fili nodded and began to lead Aneira away, taking the bowl of stew from her hands.

"And if you need any help, hoot twice like a barn owl, and once like a brown owl," he said before beginning to part ways. Fili and Kili hustled Aneira away from the clearing and back to camp in such a blur that Aneira almost didn't realize what the two had done. But when she finally regained her wits she grabbed hold of both their sleeves and stuck her heels into the ground, forcing all three of them to a stop.

"What are you doing? What did you _just do?_" she asked, trying with all her might to keep her voice at a manageable level.

"Must you be such an annoyance? We're going back to camp," said Kili, rolling his eyes. He was growing a distinct aversion to how shrill the woman's voice rose when she was agitated, which turned out to be much of the time. "No time to chat."

He grasped her elbow and began to tug her along, but she stubbornly pulled back.

"We can't just leave him to be eaten by _trolls!_ Are you mad? Or do you really want us gone that badly?"

"Aneira, please. We're not savages, we're getting Thorin. Bilbo will be fine," Fili explained, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "Just _come on_."

The two pulled her along by her elbows until she gave in, sprinting as fast as she could toward the camp. It was another ten minutes for them to rouse the rest of the company and spur them on back to the trolls (and both amusing and satisfying for Aneira to see how Fili and Kili explained how it was that Bilbo had come to be in danger in the first place). But by the time they returned, Aneira could see Bilbo from the safety of the dense bushes. She nearly gasped aloud as she saw him being hoisted up by his feet and threatened with a long, jagged blade.

"Are there any more of you little fellas hiding where you shouldn't?" asked one of the trolls, who now she could see numbered three.

"No," Bilbo refuted, shaking his head nervously.

"He's lying," the second hissed.

"No I'm not!" Bilbo denied vehemently.

"Hold him by his toes over the fire, Bill!"

"Make him squeal!" shouted the third.

Aneira couldn't contain a gasp, though she held her hands over her mouth in the nick of time. She turned to Kili at her right, pleading with her eyes to simply _do something_. He nodded silently, and despite his brother's warning, he glanced up to his uncle for permission. Thorin nodded once, and this was all Kili needed to run out from the concealment of the forest and into the clearing. He swiped once at the heel of the nearest troll. He shrieked in pain and lifted his leg, only allowing Kili to stab at his hairy foot, successfully tripping the troll.

"_Drop him!_" Kili demanded.

"You what?" Bill asked in confusion, even as he still held the deeply relieved hobbit by his legs.

"I said, _drop him_," Kili said coldly, not paying a heed to the strands of his hair that stuck to his face or the danger that lied in front of him. Even if he knew his kin were right behind him, only hidden from view, it was the thrill; the thrill of just for a moment, pretending that it was him facing off all three trolls by himself with a confidence one could only possess from attaining that thrill.

Instead of offering a reply, Bill offered the hobbit.

He threw Bilbo at the dwarf, who, not expecting such a response, dropped his blade in order to catch him. This sent the two sprawling onto the ground while the rest of the dwarves leapt out from hiding and began their attack. Aneira scrambled forward to help the hobbit off of the ground, and she even stopped to help Kili, who'd had the wind knocked from his lungs. She grabbed his sword and dropped it at his side before pulling him up to a sitting position. He coughed a bit, taking in precious air.

"Are you all right?" she shouted over the noise of the battle raging behind them. He looked up and focused on her face long enough for his muddled senses to clear, and immediately grabbed hold of his sword as his eyes widened.

Just as she would have asked what the matter was, he pushed her forcefully to the side and raised himself enough from the ground to slash across Bill's sweaty hand. It had been aiming to knock them both into a nearby tree, Kili was sure, but there was not much more time to think as he joined the fray.

Aneira hadn't hit the ground too painfully, but she had rolled into the dirt, allowing sticks and dead leaves to climb into her clothes and hair. She landed on a fallen branch that broke under her weight. It hadn't been too thick, but would most likely leave a bruise on her side. It was nothing compared to what she knew would have happened if the dwarf hadn't pushed her aside.

She looked up and saw the chaos that was before her, though after a moment of searching, she could see a certain hobbit scrambling toward the pen of enclosed horses.

* * *

Bilbo scurried around dwarves, under trolls' legs, and over rocks and branches to reach the makeshift "stable" the creatures had made to keep the horses in one place. It was a pen really, made of wood and tied with thick ropes that could only be sawn off using the long knife Bilbo now held in his hands. He began working quickly at one of the knots, but the task was proving difficult, considering the "knife" he was using was only a knife in proportions to a troll of ten feet, while he was a hobbit of about three feet. The horses whinnied and reared and threw back their heads in fear of all the commotion and loud, crashing sounds.

After a few more moments of sawing at the ropes, they finally broke free. The horses did so as well, running wildly into the forest. He smiled in satisfaction, though he stumbled back onto the ground as the animals thundered past. Feeling something cold and smooth under the palm of his hand, he looked down and found a long, metal key, only slightly longer than his hand. Bilbo toyed with it curiously in his hands for a moment before slipping it in his back pocket. Perhaps it would be useful, but what would a troll do with such a small key?

Bilbo's actions in the saving of the ponies did not go unnoticed as Tom, the gruffest and shortest of the three trolls, caught the hobbit by his legs (once again) and restrained him with Bill's help. They each grabbed hold of an arm and a leg on either side and were able to bring the dwarves (who had been given the trolls so much trouble thus far) to a standstill.

After helping Dori lift Ori up from the ground where he had been tossed like a rock, Kili looked up to see the hobbit's predicament. Suddenly their game of letting the hobbit get into mischief wasn't as amusing as the thought it would be.

"Bilbo!" he shouted, and advanced forward. He was stayed by his uncle's outstretched arm instructing him to wait.

"Lay down your arms, or we'll rip his _off!_" Bill threatened darkly. This definitively captured Thorin's attention and after a moment's hesitation, he stabbed his weapon into the earth. Forced to follow the actions of their leader, the dwarves also laid down their weapons, albeit reluctant and begrudgingly. The trolls rallied them up and tied them in sacks used for carrying off mutton and other plunder, throwing half of them in a heap as the rest were tied to a large branch.

Bill was attempting to roast them over a grand fire, though at the moment it was not tall enough to even lick at the loudly protesting dwarves. But the heat was nearly palpable and caused them to be even more uncomfortable as they were sweating and tied together to a piece of wood.

The hardest to catch hold of was Thorin, for being tied up in a sack—especially if you are more or less a king of the dwarves—was severely undignifying. As such, he put up quite the fight. But nonetheless, he was not the last.

Aneira had been left forgotten as she hid at the outskirts of the clearing, in the bushes and behind fallen logs. She had only watched as the dwarves were taken captive, but what could she have done?

_Forget what I could have done, what am I doing now? _she thought. Nothing of consequence, she knew. But she also knew that if she tried to help them, she would surely be caught.

_It's inevitable…but could I really just run away? _

She _could_ run away. Grab her things from camp, find her pony, and get the hell out of this damned forest. It would be the smart thing to do…but a niggling thought in her mind wouldn't let her move. Despite their grumblings and reservations about her, they had allowed her to join them in their quest—dwarves, who rarely trust anyone beyond their kin. Not that they trusted her entirely by any means, but enough to allow her to play a part in what would most likely be one of the greatest triumphs in dwarven history: reclaiming their homeland.

Not to mention Bilbo, her reputable neighbor who had always been kind to her, if a bit reserved to his own devices. He had put up with her antics for as long as she could remember, if her tumble through his garden was any indication.

She covered her face with her hands and sighed, before letting them slide down into her lap.

_Oh, bloody hell, I know I'm going to regret this._

Creeping as silently and as discreetly as possible, she was able to reach the side of the wooden pen that Bilbo had been able to break apart. It was directly behind the group of dwarves (and Bilbo) that lay incapacitated on the ground, and was also where Bilbo had dropped one of the troll's scythes. She grabbed hold of it, the slight rustling of leaves she stirred masked by the yelling and complaining of the dwarves. Slowly, cautiously, she made her way behind Thorin.

"Don't be startled, it's me," she whispered as she laid a hand on his shoulder, or what she assumed was his shoulder underneath the scratchy fabric of the bag he was wrapped in. Thorin jumped slightly, and turned his head a bit to look at her as she began cutting away at the many ropes that tied him.

"I had wondered…" he trailed. And she knew there was a question in the pale blue of his eyes.

"…Why did you return?"

"When's they gunna be done, Bill?" asked Bert. Aneira recognized him as the same troll that had wanted to string Bilbo by his toes over the boiling pot.

"Questions should probably be saved for later," she said.

"I'm starving!" whined Bert.

"Shut yer yap, they'll be done soon," said Bill. "They only need some seasonin' before we can _really_ start cookin' 'em."

"Hurry up," Thorin said quietly, though his sense of urgency was not lost on Aneira.

"I'm sorry, these ropes are very thick, and this scythe is the size of my whole body," Aneira replied, though she worked even faster.

_Do they even sharpen this thing? _she thought to herself. It was barely cutting anything and they didn't have much time left.

"Wait," she whispered. "Aren't there three trolls?"

It was just her luck that Tom strode in exactly at that moment carrying three logs of "firewood" in his arms.

"Now we can really make a fire!" said Tom, though his grin dropped when he looked down at Aneira, who froze in shock.

"Oi, who let the girl go?" he demanded.

"What girl?" Bill asked in confusion.

"This one!" Tom said as he turned and dropped his firewood. By now, the attention of the dwarves had shifted to Aneira, who was still fearful and wide-eyed at having been seen.

"Run!" Thorin urged, only supported by the other dwarves as Tom turned and reached for her. She screamed and awkwardly stabbed upward with the scythe, driving a little ways into the troll's hand. Tom howled in pain and took two lumbering steps back. Bert joined in, snarling and reaching out blindly as Tom has done. Spurred on by the dwarves' encouragements and shouting suggestions of battle moves, she swung it back and forth, warding off Bert by cutting stinging slashes against his outstretched palm and fingers. Eventually, however, she was forced to drop the weapon in favor of running, as it was too heavy for her to carry without immediately being trapped.

She tumbled underneath Bert's legs, falling roughly into dirt and dead leaves once again, only to be caught in Tom's grasp. She flailed, kicking and screaming, until he finally got her into a sack. It was pure adrenaline rush that had allowed her to fight them off for so long, even work up the courage to even attempt a rescue, but she was seriously regretting it at the moment as she was tossed unceremoniously onto Oin and Kili. The breath was knocked out of her as Oin's elbow hit her painfully in the stomach, through no fault of his own. She coughed and spluttered, rolling off him and Kili and half onto Gloin. He inched over some so that she could lie still without cutting off either of their air supply, and she was grateful for his consideration.

"Now…you can't say…falling on you _this_ time…wasn't an accident," Aneira told Kili as she wheezed. He rolled his eyes, though he grinned a bit.

"No, but you gave a good show, though," he teased.

And she knew this time it wasn't out of malice.

xXx

"Don't bother cookin' them," said Bert. "Let's just sit on them, then squish them into jelly!"

"Why me life?" Bofur lamented from his position trapped between his cousin and Oin.

"You've got to be kiddin' me!" was Dwalin's rather loud objection that rose above all others.

"Nah, they should be sautéed, and grilled, with a sprinkle of sage," said Bill, who gave off an air of one who thought himself quite sophisticated, especially with his culinary genius.

"Oh, that does sound quite nice," Bert conceded.

"There's got to be something we can do," Bilbo said to himself. "This is utterly ridiculous."

"They're getting' ready to _eat_ us," Balin muttered. "What more can we do?"

"Forget the seasonin', we ain't got all night!" said Tom, helping Bill in turning the branch. "Dawn ain't far away. Let's get a move on, I don't fancy bein' turned to _stone_."

_Bloody brilliant_, thought Bilbo. _Turned to stone. How can we make that happen, eh?_

"Wait! You're making a _terrible_ mistake," said the hobbit. It earned the attention of all three trolls, who peered at him curiously.

"You can't reason with them, they're halfwits!" shouted Dori, but Bilbo proceeded to wiggle himself into a sitting position, then crouched and rose until he was able to stand and face their oppressors.

"Halfwits?" Bofur interjected, "what does that make us?"

"I meant with the—with the seasoning," Bilbo began, and hopped toward Bill in a most humiliating, but necessary manner.

"What about the seasoning?" Bill asked, his curiosity now piqued.

"Well, have you smelt them? You're going to need something stronger than sage before you plate _this_ lot up," Bilbo said, to the griping of the dwarves, naturally.

"What do _you _know about cooking dwarf?" asked Bert, rather impudently.

"Wait, let the…uh…let the flurgaburlgar-hobbit talk," Bill commanded, leaning down toward Bilbo in interest. Bilbo nodded gratefully and wracked his brain for anything remotely consistent that would aid him in his current dilemma.

"The secret to cooking dwarf is…"

"Yes?" said Bill. Bilbo hesitated, trying and trying for all his might to think of something in terms of what a troll would accept.

"It's…ah…y-yes, I'm getting to it, it's…"

Oin tried his hardest to hear what exactly it was that Bilbo was saying, while Kili, Aneira, Gloin, Bomber, Fili, Balin, and even Thorin and the dwarves already tied to the spit listened with rapt attention as to what it was that Bilbo would reply.

"It's…to…_skin_ them first!" Bilbo declared.

"_Mr. Baggins!_" Aneira shrieked, while Kili shook his head morosely. Fili tried to bite at the hobbit's ankles, whereas Gloin and several of the other dwarves were giving death threats and dark promises to come.

"What a load of wubbish!" said Tom. "I've eaten plenty with their skins on, shirts and scuffed boots and all!"

He's right," said Bert. "Nothin' wrong with a bit of raw dwarf!"

To demonstrate his fact, he reached down toward the dwarves on the ground and picked up Bombur by his feet, which were concealed under the sack. The poor dwarf cried out in fright, only strengthened by the loud protests of his brother Bofur and several others.

"N-N-N-Not that one! He's infected!" Bilbo exclaimed. Bert and Tom and Bill all looked at him as if he had grown two heads.

"Wha'?" said Bert ever so eloquently.

"He's got worms in his…tubes!" Bilbo explained, while on the inside, he was panicking. And it was then that he spotted a grey flurry of movement within the bushes. It was nearby a large collection of rocks that provided an overhang so that the trolls wouldn't get caught in the morning light. It was suspicious, and Bilbo was clever enough to guess who it might be.

Bert dropped the dwarf with a disgusted grunt. Unfortunately, he happened to land upon Kili. He would have laughed at the irony if it had been funny.

He would settle for getting back at _Mr. Boggins_ later.

"In fact, they all have them. They are all _infested_ with parasites. It's a tricky business, I really wouldn't risk it," said Bilbo.

If Aneira didn't know better, she would say Bilbo's words were genuine. His skills of persuasion were top notch, as far as she was concerned, but he may have overdone it; Tom was a tad sharper than the other two. Not by much, but it was enough to see through the ruse Bilbo had been contriving so seamlessly. She could already see the wheels inside his head turning, slowly and rusty from disuse, but turning nonetheless.

"What did he say? Did he say we have parasites?" asked Oin.

_The only time he actually hears correctly_, Bilbo thought.

"What are you talking about, laddie?"

_Or perhaps not…_

"We don't have _parasites!_" Kili yelled. "_You_ have parasites!"

"Oh, shut up already!"

"No one asked you, Fili!"

All were silenced as Thorin forcefully kicked his nephew in the shoulder, though the older dwarf showed nothing on his face that would give himself away to the trolls. Kili received the hint.

"…I've got parasites as big as meh arm!" called Oin. Aneira wanted to cover her face with her hands at the ludicrousness of such a situation. How in Middle Earth did she end up with such people? Oh, yes, she remembered: her and her wild imagination.

"Mine are the biggest parasites, I've got _HUGE_ parasites!" Kili cried.

"Kili, you're not helping anyone," said Fili from his position half-underneath Gloin, his nose almost in the dirt.

"We're riddled!" shouted Ori.

"Yes, we're riddled, enormous parasites," Dori added.

"What would you have us do then?" asked Tom, who knelt down in front of the hobbit. "_Let them all go?_"

"Well…"

"You think I don't know what you're up to?" Tom poked Bilbo in the ribs roughly in accusation. "This little ferret?"

"Ferret?" Bilbo repeated in indignation.

"He's taking us for fools!" said Tom. He stood and moved Bill over, taking charge of the rotisserie.

"_The dawn will take you all!_"

Bilbo could have cried tears of joy.

Gandalf stood above the rock overhang as he brandished his staff, and the faint traces of morning light was just visible behind him.

"Who's that?" asked Bill.

"Can we eat him too?" said Bert.

Their last words before Gandalf slammed his staff down on the rock, splitting it in half for the sunlight to rain down on them from the heavens. It was a glorious sight to behold as brilliant light consumed the clearing, not only chasing away all shadow, but also burning the screaming trolls into solid, grey stone. And it was only then that the dwarves cheered for their victory, and thanking Gandalf in earnest for his rescue.

Half an hour later, after all had been untied from the wooden plank and their sacks, Gandalf viewed upon his handiwork, knocking against stone with the tip of his staff. Thorin came from around the bend, regarding the wizard with a slight grin.

"Where did you go to, if I may ask?" said Thorin.

"To look ahead."

"And what brought you back?" The wizard hesitated for only a moment before offering a wry reply.

"Looking behind," he said with a grin. "It was a tricky business, but now all are in one piece."

"No thanks to your burglar," said Thorin, his grin pulling back into his customary frown.

"He had the nonce to play for time," Gandalf said pointedly. "None of the rest of you thought of that."

Thorin did not reply, but the way he shifted his gaze downward betrayed that he knew the wizard was most likely right. But the Grey Pilgrim no longer focused on the topic of conversation, and instead once again viewed the statues that now stood as a monument within the quiet forest.

"They must have come down from the Ettinmoors…"

"Since when do mountain trolls venture so far south?" asked Thorin.

"Not for an age." Gandalf shook his head slowly. "Not since a darker power ruled these lands…and they could not have moved in daylight."

"There must be a cave nearby," said Thorin. He turned around and began scanning the clearing for signs of such. He gathered the rest of the party, and eventually they came to a cave about a quarter mile away from where the trolls had made their camp. It was sealed by a wall of rock, though the cracks along the edges that ran in a curve, along with a shallow hole that appeared to have been drilled in the center, made Gandalf think that it could possibly be moved. The dwarves pushed against it with all their might, but it wouldn't budge. The wizard tried various means through incantations, but nothing seemed to work.

Bilbo, growing bored, sighed and sat down upon a boulder. He yelped when he felt something pinching against his rear, and it was only when he slipped a hand in his back pocket that he remembered what he had found.

"Um…would this do it, Gandalf?" he asked, and presented the wizard with the iron key. Gandalf swiped it out of his hands, leveling him with an annoyed look. The dwarves were notably more vocal.

"And you couldn't have thought of that _earlier?_" Dwalin asked in irritation. He muttered something in a language Bilbo didn't readily understand. But the hobbit assumed it wasn't pleasant as Balin gave his brother a disapproving glance.

Using the key, however, proved to do the trick as the door slid open before them. The cave was damp and foul smelling, so much so that even flies only ventured so far inside. But Dori and Ori stayed by the entrance on lookout while the rest followed Gandalf down the stone path and into the darkness.

"Be careful what you touch," said the wizard. He used his staff as a light while Thorin brought down a torch he and Gloin had fashioned.

The cave was wide, though its engineering was uneven and the path jagged. The horrid smell was ingrained Aneira's nose, she was sure, and she could hear the flies buzzing by her ears. She waved her hand around her head in attempt to quiet the irritating noise, but it was to no avail. Hearing someone snickering behind her, she turned to see Fili, who regarded her with a smirk before shifting his attention onto the jewelry and gold on the floor. She rolled her eyes and glanced down. There were a number of valuable chests of gold and silver, and much of it was strewn on the ground. Though she was sure there would be no way to carry it all; gold was extremely heavy, and the farthest thing from ideal while travelling.

"Seems a shame to leave it just…lying around," said Bofur with a sly grin. "Anyone could take it."

"You're right," said Gloin. "…Nori! Get a shovel!"

Aneira giggled a bit as she listened to the dwarves interact. Their love of gold was fascinating.

But there was, however, a collection of swords that she could see both Gandalf and Thorin admiring.

_Hmm, maybe I can find something_, she thought, her memory flicking back to the scythe she had used to pathetically fight back against the trolls. With a real weapon, she might actually be able to defend herself. Perhaps they would not always have Gandalf to rescue them at the last possible moment.

Aneira fingered her way through weapons until she found one with a short, silver hilt. She grabbed it with both hands, testing its weight before wiping her left hand on her breeches. The sword was dusty and covered in cobwebs that she hesitantly brushed off, for fear of spiders (the thought induced a shudder). Walking farther into the cave, she unsheathed the weapon slowly and found that it was clean steel with runes etched in the middle until the hilt. It was beautiful, and of elven design by the look of it. She only knew because her father had kept a drawing of one, similar in appearance, but not the same design on the hilt or the same runes.

_It's light enough. I wonder…_

She grinned to herself before attempting to twirl it in her hand.

_Not bad. I may not be a swordswoman yet, but with a sword like this, how hard can it be?_

She made cutting motions in the air, crossing like an "X" before lunging straight out with a "_Ha!_"

"What _are_ you doing?" a voice said dryly. Her eyes widened in surprise. She almost lost the grip on the sword, but she swiftly turned around. Kili stood before her, arms crossed and a brow arched as he smirked. There was a look of amusement upon his face that she innately disliked. She flushed in embarrassment.

"Nothing," she replied quickly. He cocked his head to the side, pointedly looking at the sword at her side.

"A long sword like that would not be suited to you," he said. Aneira immediately frowned.

"And why-ever not?" she retorted. He rolled his eyes, as if explaining it to her would just be beneath him. At least, that is how she interpreted the gesture.

The sword _was_ a bit lengthy for her, but Kili was actually just amused by her antics, and he was mildly intrigued by her interest in learning the sword of all things. But he didn't have to tell her that.

"Do you even know how to wield it?" he asked instead.

"My father used to pick up his own sword sometimes, but he never showed me…" Aneira trailed, and the regret could be read clearly in her eyes. Thinking of her father always surfaced memories she missed, and it generally was bittersweet.

_I had always wondered why he kept swords, though. The Shire is a peaceful place with no need for that kind of protection_, she thought. If what Serén told her was true, Aneira supposed now she knew.

Hesitantly, she looked up and found that Kili was watching her with a guarded expression. She couldn't quite tell what he was thinking. Perhaps he pitied her, but he had probably lost more than she had in his life as a dwarf formerly of Erebor. Pity was the last thing she wanted from him.

"You're holding it wrong," he stated bluntly, and lifted her wrist, which slightly hung as her hand held onto the sword. Kili grasped her hand and moved it along the hilt in the correct position.

"You have to have a good grip. If not, you'll either drop it, or someone will knock it out of your hands," he said, and though his touch was firm, it wasn't overly so.

He nudged her feet apart in the dirt and instructed her to bend her knees a bit.

"This is your stance where you can be most center-balanced. If you stand up straight how you were, you have a greater chance of falling over or being knocked over by force."

"But what if I'm left-handed?"

"Are you?"

"No…"

"Then why did you ask?"

"I was just curious."

Kili sighed, but he could expect nothing less from her.

"Let's go, we have a long day ahead of us," Thorin said, his voice echoing throughout the cave. "Kili, practice swordplay later."

Kili nodded at his uncle, and turned back to Aneira. She had sheathed her new sword, and she wore a small smile, something that had not yet been directed toward him since she joined their company.

"Thank you," she said. He stood there for a moment, his mind strangely blank.

_What just happened? _

"Kili!" He sighed once more.

"Coming!"

**Well, here's the next one. ****I couldn't resist writing the entire troll scene from the movie, it's just too fun to pass up on. ;) **I could've had this up yesterday, the first half of this story is already written. I was so sleep deprived that I forgot, but here you go! Let me know what you thought!


	5. A Cautionary Tale

**AN: Tension here, folks. You be warned.**

* * *

_~Ere Break of Day~_

Chapter Five – A Cautionary Tale

No sooner than after all of them vacated the cave did Dwalin and Thorin hear rustling and thrashing from within the forest. It was at a distance, but rapidly coming closer. Thorin called for the rest of the company to get to moving, and within moments they were running. But when Thorin realized that what they faced would soon catch up to them, he instructed them to stop and arm themselves. They could hear the ground rumbling and branches snapping and leaves crunching and…odd shrieking.

"_Thieves…liars…murderers!_" a voice yelled, and the voice was soon accompanied by its owner: a crazed old man wearing large, brown robes, a greyed beard (though there were tendrils that were still a light brown), and an overgrown hat upon his head. He stood upon a sled, which was being pulled by several harnessed rabbits, and slid to a stop in front of them.

It was a most peculiar sight.

Though Gandalf was the only one who seemed to recognize him first hand, and addressed him familiarly.

"Radagast," said Gandalf, who looked quite relieved.

Meanwhile, Bilbo was frightened out of his wits. He had been captured by trolls, nearly eaten, was given an elven sword by Gandalf from the cave, which he had no knowledge of wielding, and now were confronted with a strange man, whose name he was sure he'd heard before.

_Radagast…as in…Radagast the Brown? One of the wizards? _Bilbo thought. _Surely not, this man looks like a lunatic!_

"Radagast the Brown," said Gandalf as the others sheathed their weapons, unknowingly answering Bilbo's musings. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you, Gandalf," said the wizard. He appeared frantic, but at this point, the dwarves and Bilbo and Aneira, having been deprived of an entire night's sleep, needed to plot down on the ground and avoid excitement for at least a few minutes. They left the wizards to discuss while they settled in a nearby clearing, snacking on dry provisions, talking quietly, or catching up on some sleep by dozing.

"Something is _terribly_ wrong…"

"Yes?" Gandalf asked. Radagast opened his mouth, paused, raised a hand as if to say something, then paused again.

"Just give me a minute…um…_oh_…I had a thought and now it's gone," said the wizard. "It was right there on the tip of my tongue…"

Then he seemed to curl his tongue, as if there was something inside, and his speech became muffled.

"Oh wait, it's not a thought at all," he said. And Gandalf delicately reached into Radagast's mouth and pulled out a spindly, brown animal that was wriggling in Gandalf's grip.

"It's a stick insect," Radagast finished. Gandalf placed it into Radagast's hands, carefully concealing the small measure of distaste.

"But that is not what I came to tell you. There are more pressing matters, dark matters…"

"What is it, Radagast?" asked Gandalf with a shift in his stance. His patience was quickly wearing thin, and he pulled out his pipe.

"The Greenwood is _sick_, Gandalf," said Radagast. "A darkness has fallen over it. Nothing grows anymore—at least…nothing good. The air is foul with decay, but worse are the webs."

This made Gandalf pause.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Spiders, Gandalf…I followed their trail…they came from Dol Guldur." Gandalf turned to the other wizard then in confusion.

"Dol Guldur? But the old fortress is abandoned…"

"No, Gandalf…it is not."

* * *

"So Bilbo, how did you find that sword? All I found were ones nearly as big as me!" said Aneira. "I was lucky enough to have found this one covered in cobwebs."

She shuddered and gestured to the sword she had been able to strap to her belt, and slid it enough out of the sheath for him to see. Bilbo nodded in appreciation.

"It's a beautiful sword," he acknowledged. "But what, are you afraid of spiders?"

She gave him a look.

"Is that a question? They've always hid in the corners of the house, but Mum never had the heart to clean them out. I could swear they stared at me while I slept."

Bilbo chuckled and shook his head.

"Your sword is beautiful as well," she replied with a smile.

"Thank you…Gandalf found it for me…he said it…glows blue when Orcs or goblins are near."

"Do you think that's true?"

"Well, Gandalf's been right about a good many things since we've set out already, so I see no reason not to take him at his word," Bilbo said with another chuckle.

It made Aneira smile. She'd seen a side of Bilbo in the last couple of weeks that he most likely wouldn't care to admit, but she could see the Tookish side of him—adventurous and bold at times, while at others, he was his everyday self of perfectly ordinary and respectable Bilbo Baggins. But somehow, she didn't feel like he was being true to his nature, even if she had only ever seen him as "perfectly respectable."

True, it had saved them so far, between the daily meals he prepared and his quick thinking with the trolls (that had been an accomplishment in and of itself, in her opinion). But even with those things, she was glad Bilbo had made the decision to come out here. If he hadn't…well, she was sure that, like herself, he would have regretted it for the rest of his quiet life.

* * *

Fili peered over at the two Shirefolk comparing swords. He chuckled slightly and shook his head, turning back to where he was adjusting his satchel. He'd found it back at camp, and was now packing up his bedroll. Kili, leaning against a tree, looked up and gave his brother a small grin.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"Nothing really. What do you make of that, giving those two weapons?" Kili shrugged.

"It could be good for them. They need to learn how to defend themselves sometime."

"Yes, but who's going to get stuck teaching them?"

"Thorin?" Kili teased, eliciting a laugh from his older brother.

"That would be rich," said Fili, still laughing a bit.

"Oh no, better. Dwalin," Kili suggested, laughing a bit himself.

"Nah, but you know who's probably going to get stuck with the job?" asked Fili.

"Who?"

"Us, that's who. The youngest who've been trained in in weaponry, besides Ori, and who don't have anything better to do."

"Hmm, true. But…" Kili trailed, thinking back to when they were in the cave, how he'd caught Aneira in a spur of spontaneity and enthusiasm that he could recognize in himself. And then the embarrassment flushed red on her cheeks and neck at having been seen—a feeling he could well identify with. It reminded him of his childhood on those days when Thorin had helped take care of them, train them, and so much more. It was the desire to try something you knew eventually would be a necessity, but not mind because you knew that the process of learning would be fun. Just not without hard work. But maybe his thoughts were straying from their path.

"I don't think it could be bad."

"What? To be stuck going back to the very basics? You don't have the patience for that. I know you, Kili."

Again, he remembered the cave, how he had adjusted her stance, strengthened her grip. She wasn't unwilling to learn, and he was sure neither was Bilbo. In fact, she was zealous. He could see her twirling it with her wrist even now. And he couldn't help but smile the least bit when he saw her do as he had instructed.

"I don't know, brother. You might be surprised," Kili said absently. Fili glanced over at his brother and, upon following his line of vision, let out a hollow laugh.

"Now, don't you dare be thinking of any of that," said Fili. Kili looked back up, brows furrowed in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"I know what is going on in that empty head of yours," Fili said, and leaned down to look his brother directly in the eyes. "Keep focused on what this whole journey is about and you won't stray from it with distraction."

Kili pushed his face away with one hand, not removing himself from his relaxed position.

"What distraction? I have no idea what you're going on about." Fili gave him a dry glance.

"What? Just because there is a woman in our midst you think I'm distracted?" said Kili. "Don't worry, brother. I'm not like you, dreaming about certain dwarf maiden in my sleep."

Fili's eye twitched as he viewed his brother in both shock and indignation.

"What are you talking about?" he hissed.

"Oh, Fili, you remember Haira, daughter of Fairin," said Kili with a smirk. Despite his brother's command to just sit and be quiet, he stood and raised his voice so that the other dwarves could hear. "The one that stole your breath and trained your eyes whenever she ventured into the forge after her father. Oin, is she not your apprentice in the healing halls of the Blue Mountains?"

Not bothering to listen for Oin's reply, Fili scrambled to quiet his brother by force and tackled him back to the ground.

"You don't know what you're talking about!"

"I hear it enough! You're quite loud."

"I don't talk in my sleep and you know it!"

Some dwarves looked over absently as the brothers tussled, but it had become so commonplace for those who knew them that most paid no mind. Once they were settled and laughing off the dispute, Kili continued their earlier conversation.

"And besides, about this whole training business. No one has asked us to do anything yet, so let's not go jumping to conclusions," said Kili. Immediately after he said it he realized exactly what he said. "And what is wrong here? I'm sounding exactly like you, and you are sounding like me…very strange."

"Hmm, I wonder why."

"Oh, shut up. No one asked you."

* * *

"I wonder what it is he's talking about with Radagast, anyway," said Aneira.

"I have no idea, but I'm sure it's important if they've been talking this long."

Just as the words had left Bilbo's mouth, an eerie howl resounded through the forest.

"What was that?" he asked immediately. "Was it a wolf?"

Bofur clutched his axe tensely and said, "No, that is not a wolf."

Bilbo heard growling from above and could only watch as a large animal, dark and furry, leapt through the clearing and onto Dwalin, though the creature was killed by Thorin and Fili before it had the chance to do any damage.

"Kili!" Thorin called as a second warg ran down from the opposite side. In a fluid movement, Kili drew his bow and an arrow and let it fly, and watched in satisfaction as it hit its target dead on. It fell and tumbled to the ground at their feet and Dwalin, getting up from underneath the first warg, brought his axe down on the creature's head and effectively dealt the final blow.

"Warg scouts. An orc-pack isn't far behind," Thorin said gravely.

"Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?" asked Gandalf.

"No one," Thorin answered sharply.

"_Who did you tell?_" Gandalf pressed.

"No one, I swear!" said the dwarf in frustration, though he spared a cursory glance at Aneira. He obviously hadn't forgotten her blunder the first night she had made her piece about joining their company, and she mentally kicked herself a second time for placing that seed of doubt in his mind. But it couldn't be helped at the moment. It looked as if they were in very real danger.

"What in Durin's name is going on?" Thorin asked furiously.

"You are being hunted!"

Bilbo perked up at this, and a sense of dread was quickly rolling up his spine.

_Hunted, wonderful_, he thought dryly.

"We have to get out of here," Dwalin stated.

"We can't! We have no ponies," said Ori, who had just gotten back from where they had made camp the previous night. "They've bolted."

Bilbo turned his gaze heavenward.

_Even more wonderful. _

"I will draw them off," Radagast vowed. Gandalf turned to him then, an incredulous look upon his face.

"These are Gundabad wargs, they will outrun you," he said, his tone only slightly patronizing.

"These are Rhosgobel rabbits," Radagast countered, and Gandalf raised a brow.

"I'd like to see them try."

* * *

Now out of the safety of the forest where wargs and Orcs would be already looking for them, the company hid behind large boulders clustered about a wide expanse of valley. It was perfect for hiding them for the moment, but they were soon forced to move as they heard Radagast flying past on his sled, taunting and goading the Orcs on.

"Come on," said Gandalf, and motioned for them to follow down into the valley. They ran as fast as they could from boulder to boulder, and ironically enough, it was only Bilbo and Aneira that were having much trouble keeping pace. Neither of them were used to the chase, and had no endurance for long-distance running, especially with the heavy packs they carried on their backs that they had retrieved from when they made camp. Aneira found it exasperating that even with pounds of leather and armor on, the dwarves were easily keeping up with Gandalf's pace. Even heavy-set Bombur, though he was near last with the two of them and panting heavily, was still keeping up.

When they stopped for the fifth time, Aneira all but collapsed against the smooth rock, gasping for breath.

"You all right, lassie?" asked Bofur. He gave her a pitying look, though she tried to smile a bit.

"I'm wasted on cross country, Bofur," she admitted. He nodded in understanding. But when Thorin commanded them to begin once again, she found that her body wasn't letting her move as fast as she was willing it to. She needed to regain her breath, and expending so much energy after having not slept nor eaten since the day before was staggering. Bofur would not let her, however, and he grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her along. She tripped twice, but he was unrelenting and _yanked_ her up by the arm when she nearly fell.

Nonetheless, they finally came to an abrupt stop under the protection of a collection of rocks. All were panting as quietly as they could manage, and Aneira spotted Gandalf only a couple yards away.

"Where are we trying to get to, Gandalf?" she whispered. He turned to her and gestured with his staff outward.

"To the next set of rocks, now be _quiet_."

It was then that she heard deep, guttural growling from above.

The others became as silent as possible, waiting for Thorin's next instruction. Aneira, being that she was toward the end of the line they had made as they pressed against the rock, she was able to turn as see a glance of the orc upon a warg. It padded closer to the other side of the hill, and an idea was formed inside her head.

_We can get to the other side without being seen if we time it correctly, but Thorin's probably not up for deliberating right now_, she thought.

_I'll have to show him, and then they'll follow. We can get out of here before the Orcs catch us_. She peeked around once again to see that the warg was as far from her as possible, sniffing around the other side of the rock.

It was perfect timing.

Aneira stepped out from the shadow of the boulder, tiptoeing as inaudibly as possible, and she ignored the incredulous look she was sure Bofur and Bilbo and Bombur were giving her. But they did not dare utter a word, lest the orc hear. She was nearly to the other side when she heard the growling intensify, and just when she turned around to see what was happening, the warg was dead at her feet with an arrow shaft through its eye.

But she didn't have time to scream.

It was but a moment for Dwalin to cleave the orc's putrid, blue arm, but its agonized screams brought the attention of the rest of the pack; they heard the howls on the air and the distant sound of shouting and yelling. He finished off the creature with a blow to the head with his axe as Gandalf urged them forward and the dwarves ran ahead.

"Move! _Run!_" he yelled, though Aneira had been stilled by the dead animal before her. It had shocked her, and her brain was struggling to process how it was that she was still standing. Though a second before she would have actually moved, she felt herself being roughly pulled along by her arm in a dead sprint across the valley. Her hair was obscuring her vision, but she could just make out the telltale view of a rather large hat sat atop a mess of thick braids.

_Kili saved me_, she realized. _For the second time._

But Aneira couldn't dwell on these thoughts for long, as they were met by the sight of fifteen, perhaps twenty wargs slowly closing in on them from all sides. Two in particular, one without a rider and one carrying an orc, were several feet away though they charged toward them. They were trapped by boulders and would be forced to fight, even if they were severely outnumbered.

"_Kili!_" shouted Thorin. "_Shoot them!_"

Bofur pulled Aneira out of Kili's way as he stopped short to draw an arrow. She slipped out of Bofur's grasp when he went ahead, and she took a few shaky steps backward and watched as the first arrow embedded itself in the orc's skull.

"We're surrounded!" yelled Fili, brandishing his twin short swords. They _were_ surrounded, and while taking in their surroundings, some noticed that Gandalf had once again disappeared.

"Where's Gandalf?" asked Bofur, slightly panicked.

"He has abandoned us!" Dwalin accused. He raised his axe in his hands, almost beckoning their enemy to come closer. The Orcs did draw nearer, forcing the dwarves to back up as far as they dared without getting pinned against the rock.

"Hold your ground!" said Thorin as he also raised his sword, though Bilbo noticed it was not of dwarvish make. It was long, clean, and beautifully etched in familiar runes that were reminiscent of the runes on his own sword.

_He must have scored that from the troll cave_, Bilbo deduced, but he soon forgot this train of thought in favor of stepping closer to the rocks behind them. Aneira joined him, and they both waited for pandemonium to begin.

It never did.

"_This way, you fools!_" Gandalf called, and Aneira and Bilbo turned to see him at their side from out of the rocks. He motioned to his left at a large hole in the ground—an escape. One by one they filed in, down into the crevice and into a dark cave, until Thorin finally slid down to join them. They heard snarling and growling above, and then the sound of a horn before an orc slid and fell to the bottom of the cave. The dwarves tensed, their weapons poised, but the orc was already dead. An arrow shaft protruded from its neck.

Thorin pulled it free and examined the thin, blue and bloodied shaft with disgust.

"_Elves_," he concluded with a grimace. Gandalf sighed and turned, leaning on his staff. His gaze wandered in the dark before settling on Aneira. She looked up at him in confusion.

_Why does he stare at me so? _she wondered. She needn't wonder for long, though.

"What on _earth_ had you been thinking?" he asked, and he didn't have to elaborate for anyone within the cave to understand his meaning. Aneira's brows furrowed as she frowned, and she collected her wits before answering.

"I was trying to help," she said, ignoring the scoffs and sighs that followed and echoed off the walls of the cave.

"Only a fool would run recklessly out in the open when being concealed is of the utmost importance," Gandalf said irritably. Aneira gathered herself, gaining a bit of confidence as she stepped away from the wall and slipped her hand out of Bilbo's.

"I _was_ being careful," she argued.

"You may not always be so lucky. If it had not been for both Dwalin and Kili, things may have very well turned out for the worse for you, Aneira." She glanced to the right, a little ways behind the wizard, where Kili stood by his brother. He met her gaze, but as he appeared outwardly composed, she saw annoyance in his eyes and in the furrowing of his brows—especially in the way he turned his head to the side, away from her.

So he was in agreement.

"I'm fine, Gandalf. I had nearly reached the other side by the time the warg saw me," she said with a shrug, despite the piercing look the dwarf had given her.

"Confound it _all_, you _foolish_ child, I have no time for those without common sense," the wizard said in exasperation, and threw up the hand that wasn't holding onto his staff.

"I'm not a child, Gandalf," she protested.

"Well, then it's time you stopped acting like one," Thorin said, his irritation seeping through his calm front as he stepped closer to the woman. His sharp retort stung, but she looked up at him silently, defiantly as her mouth thinned into a line.

"We did not invite you into this company, you've forced your presence upon us," he added. "I warned you of the consequences of foolhardy actions, and I intend to keep my word."

Her eyes widened and she nearly gasped, but he continued.

"If any should risk their lives to defend you, then a little gratitude and self-preservation would not go amiss."

She looked down to the floor. As much as she felt affronted, she had no wish to anger the dwarf further. He shook his head and led the group onward through the cavern.

"Not to mention _caution_," he added.

She waited until all but Bilbo had passed her before trailing along with him. Just when she might have gained some respect for herself, now they thought she was reckless and foolhardy. And when they decided to continue their expedition, Thorin may not allow her to join them.

_Bloody brilliant._


	6. Hindsight

**AN: Sorry this chapter took so long to get out, but here's to a New Year of endless possibilities, especially within the world of Fanfiction!**

* * *

_~Ere Break of Day~_

Chapter Six – Hindsight

The cave was not much of a cave, but more of a deep crevice between two enormous structures of rock. Its path inside was narrower in places, but generally easy enough to follow. But within a few moments, rock walls broke way to open air, and the path led downward in stone-carved steps. Once at the bottom, they came to the edge of a steep fall at the ground, leading to a valley filled with pines and oak trees and an entire city built upon one side of the mountain. The way the sun's rays shone over the beautiful structures and rivers on the mountainside, it almost appeared to be glittering like jewels.

"The valley of Imladris," said Gandalf, "in the common tongue it is known by another name."

He peered at Bilbo, seeing the awe-stricken hobbit taking in as much of the sight as his eyes would allow.

"Rivendell," Bilbo breathed. Gandalf nodded and brushed past him, dully noting how the dwarves wore disgruntled expressions, but were appreciating the beauty of the place before them (save Thorin, who was not in the least amused).

"Here is the Last Homely House East of the Sea," said the wizard with a smile. Thorin moved closer to him with a glare.

"This was your plan all along," he said tersely, wiping the smile from Gandalf's face, "To seek refuge with our _enemy_."

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf admonished with a frown. "The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself."

Thorin could have rolled his eyes in his exasperation, but he restrained himself in favor of fixing the wizard with an icy stare.

"You think the _elves_ will give our quest their blessing?They will try to stop us, have no doubt," he said with a shake of his head.

"Of course they will, but we have questions that need to be answered," Gandalf reasoned, earning a begrudging sigh from the dwarf leader.

"If we are to be successful this will need to be handled with tact," Gandalf said with a smile. "And respect. And no small degree of charm…which is why you'll leave the talking to me."

Thorin offered no response, but allowed the wizard to lead the way down the hill into the valley until they reached a courtyard of pristine, white bricks and an intricately carved archway. They were met there by an elf who addressed Gandalf familiarly. But many of the company were busy taking in the sight of Rivendell, with the glorious view of the sunset that shone over the valley in soft hues, and the grand buildings that made up homes and a great palace that stood out above it all.

"Bilbo, I swear I can hear singing. Do you hear that?" Aneira whispered to the hobbit.

"Yes," he nodded, "but it's some way off in the distance. They're probably elves."

"Well, yes, but I hear laughing as well. Do you think they're laughing at us?" she asked.

"I doubt it, we've only just arrived. What in the world could they be laughing at us for?"

* * *

"We heard you had crossed into the Valley," said the elf.

"I must speak with Lord Elrond," said Gandalf.

"My Lord Elrond is not here."

"Not here?" Gandalf repeated. "…Where is he?"

No sooner had he spoken when an elvish horn sounded from the west. Gandalf smiled and turned to face whom he was sure was the elf lord he sought.

His guess had been correct, and he watched as a team of elves astride horses rode into the courtyard, swarming the dwarves and forcing them, along with Bilbo and Aneira, to crowd around each other tightly and brandish their weapons in case of attack. But it was the elf's voice that broke the tension.

"Gandalf!" he welcomed.

"Lord Elrond, _my friend_," the wizard replied in the elvish tongue. "_Where have you been?_"

"_We've been hunting a pack of Orcs that came up from the South_," he said, stepping down from his horse. He and his companions wore the armor of the elves and longbows, though his smile was warm.

"_We slew a number near the Hidden Pass._"

"Bilbo, are you all right?" asked Aneira. They were squished in the center of the dwarven crowd, but she noticed Bilbo was pale and wide-eyed as he watched the interaction between Gandalf and the elven lord.

"Quite, just not used to so much excitement in one month, I suppose," he remarked.

"You and me both," she whispered.

"Strange, for Orcs to come so close to our borders," said Elrond in the common tongue. He embraced Gandalf and held up a black sword of the Orcs, its hilt made of bone and garnished with feathers.

"Something, or someone, had drawn them near," he continued, and handed the weapon over to the first elf that had received the company.

"That may have been us," Gandalf conceded, and Thorin took this as his cue to…greet Lord Elrond.

"Welcome, Thorin, son of Thráin," said the elf with a smile.

"I do not believe we have met," said Thorin. His tone was icy, but Elrond overlooked it.

"You have your grandfather's bearing," he explained. "I knew Thrór when he reigned under the mountain."

"Indeed, he made no mention of you," Thorin replied scathingly. Bilbo's eyes widened at the dwarf's rudeness, but if the elf was offended, it did not show outwardly. Instead, he made what sounded like an announcement, though none other than the elves and Gandalf understood the meaning of his words.

"Oi, does he offer us insult?" Gloin roared, to the accompanying cries of outrage from his compatriots.

"No, Master Gloin, he offers you food," Gandalf said in exasperation, though he attempted to remain patient for Elrond's sake.

At this the dwarves gathered among themselves for council, debating on whether they would accept the offering of an elf. But their empty stomachs and tired limbs out spoke all other discussion.

"Ah, well…in that case, lead on," said Gloin.

True to his word, Elrond would later bring them into his palace within another courtyard, where a long table had been set up for them. But first, he offered enough baths to be drawn for all, in private if they so chose—Aneira being one of them. Two elven ladies who addressed themselves as Maela and Luned accompanied her, showing her all choices of soaps and washes.

Aneira, now clad only in a warm towel that pooled on the floor, was self-conscious at being in such a state among strangers. But she appreciated their kindness and their fair company. She had been traveling with several men, many of them rough and uncouth, for nearly a month with no other feminine companion since she left the Shire. Though even then, she'd only associated with a few acquaintances and neighbors besides her friend Melisse. Not because she didn't care for company, but more so due to her severely limited margin for leisure in which to meet new people.

"May we offer you fresh clothing before you settle into your bath, Aneira? Aneira, was your name, yes?" asked Luned. Her pale eyes were as bright as her blonde hair, and Aneira in contrast felt dull and unkempt. She tried her best not to let on her thoughts.

"No thank you, and yes, that is my name. But I've brought spare clothing with me for just this occasion," she said, and patted her satchel.

"Oh, well then please allow us to take your other clothes to be washed. They'll be ready for you by morning," she said amiably.

"And nightwear will be ready for you by the time we show you to your room, after supper," added Maela.

"My room?" Aneira asked. It felt like years since she had slept in a bed, let alone in a bedroom.

"You all will have your own rooms for as long as you are in Rivendell," said Maela with a sympathetic smile. Her brown eyes twinkled with mirth, and Aneira realized she must have noticed the look of longing in her own eyes.

"Thank you, I honestly can't wait."

The bath was more pleasant that she ever would have thought. Upon stepping into the near-scalding water, her limbs melted into bliss. Slowly the dirt and grime and everything that resembled the past month washed away. She hadn't realized she had forgotten the color of her own skin when the traces of black and brown revealed the pale skin underneath. And she hadn't realized how knotted and matted her hair had truly become until washing it thoroughly and pulling a brush through it several times until it shone.

_How much of my personal hygiene have I been neglecting since I left the Shire? I've probably looked like a crazed woman for weeks now,_ she thought with a grimace, and continued brushing. Once she was finished meticulously grooming herself (as pompous as that sounded), she stepped out of the bath, dried herself with the towel, and found her satchel. It was a good thing she had remembered to retrieve it from their camp in the forest, else she would have left her extra change of clothes.

She'd stripped of the black trousers and dark green dress she'd worn earlier under a thick, leather jacket, one her mother had insisted Aneira take with her from her own wardrobe. Now what she wore was simpler; a cotton dress of lavender fabric, layered with darker patterns in the skirt. It was one of her favorites and most often worn. Above all, it was a little bit of home.

* * *

The food was just as pleasant.

_More than stew and hard bread_, she thought, digging into her salad with gusto. Though she noticed the others were not as hearty with their meal as she was. Dwalin, among others, complained about there not being any meat, while some poked at the greenery warily.

"Just try it, you might like it," she heard Dori encourage.

"I don't like green food," Ori complained, making Aneira want to giggle.

"So you like these rabbit rations?" a voice whispered in her ear, and she almost choked on a mouthful of lettuce. She turned to her right at the sound, and the look upon the dwarf's face made her want to smack him with a stick of celery. But he sat down next to her, despite that she hadn't asked him to, and he bit indelicately into an apple.

"Yes, actually. It's good for you," she said.

"'S that a fact?" he asked around bits of apple.

"Why, yes. And I'm used to it," she responded, wincing a bit as she watched the mangled fruit being mashed between his teeth.

"Why's that?"

"My brother…he harvests and sells vegetables, and brings some home to cook with." Kili raised a brow.

"I didn't know you had a brother," he said with an amused expression. "You must be very proud of his vegetable selling skills."

She would have punched him in the arm if his brother next to him wouldn't have said something about it.

"I happen to be very proud of him," she stated with a small glare, matter-of-factly. Kili raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"No need to get prickly, I meant it in jest," he said with a grin. "What is his name?"

"…Aeron."

"Hmm…" Kili trailed, before a sudden thought entered his mind. "Now, I can't imagine an older brother would allow his only sister to join a quest such as this willingly or without him to accompany you. So either you are the eldest, or you snuck out without him knowing…or perhaps a mixture of both."

She gave him a withering glance. His questions were growing far too close for comfort already.

"He was against it, but I convinced him otherwise," said Aneira. "And _yes_, I happen to be older by three years."

He sat and mulled this over for a moment, when a something else occurred to him.

"…He probably won't be happy that we lost his pony."

This was something she hadn't thought of, but now that the thought was brought to the forefront of her mind, she couldn't help but agree. He'd just bought her two months prior, and it had taken a good chuck of their savings to do so.

_Wendy, that was her name, _Aneira thought. She pressed her hand to her mouth in anxiety; her mind was conjuring up the various alternative ribbings he would be sure to give her by the time she got home. She was startled, however, by a hand resting on her shoulder, and she looked up into dark brown eyes.

"I…didn't mean to distress you," he said hesitantly. She glared icily at him, though he averted his eyes.

"And why not?" she said, brushing off his hand as she stood.

She didn't feel very much like eating anymore.

"Hasn't that been your intention from the beginning?" she paused enough to collect herself. She knew a few of the dwarves watched her in her outburst, and to save herself of further humiliation, she ended their conversation in the most civil way she could think of while still getting her point across.

"_Good night to you_."

She could feel eyes upon her as she made her leave, but she didn't hear the footsteps coming up behind her until she was around the corner. A hand wrapped itself around her arm and she let out a short gasp in fright. But she calmed and settled into a glare as she saw her "attacker."

"Would you just _leave me alone?_"

"Look, like I said before…it wasn't my intention to upset you."

"Then why did you? Do you even think before you speak?" When Kili didn't answer, she nodded in satisfaction.

"Just please, leave me be. Didn't you think I was a nuisance?"

"Of course I did," he said, and for good measure he added, "I still do."

"Oh, _of course_ you do," she said with a roll of her eyes. "And how can I blame you? You and your kin have had to save me twice, and watching as I made a fool myself, and again as I tried to do something useful. So I completely understand your aversion. If you would simply let me alone, we can share our mutual aversion for each other in peace."

As much as he tried, he couldn't restrain his smirk of amusement as he considered all the contradictions of her words. He didn't know why he had followed her, but the rush of defiance he'd felt upon seeing his brother's warning look compelled him to do so. He reminded himself that he had other questions for her.

"I didn't lie to you when I said you had put on a good show, though," he said. It made her pause, which he used to his advantage. "You may be completely inept, but you're interesting…you came back and tried to save us, when you could have run away and saved yourself."

"I couldn't leave you all to die, that would be wrong," she said bluntly, but he saw the uncertainty in her gaze. It led him to believe she was wondering what he was getting at as she toyed with a silver chain that hung at her neck.

"Then you made a stupid mistake." She frowned at him.

"I was trying to help." He sighed in exasperation.

"You could have gotten us all killed."

"My plan almost worked," she insisted.

"But it didn't, and you could have been shot where you stood, or worse," he said, which quieted her momentarily. "The point is: you are curious, impulsive, reckless…"

_What else haven't I been told in my life? _Kili thought.

With each word, her gaze fell a bit lower until her head very nearly hung, but Kili said something then that piqued her interest.

"…Things I can identify with," he said with a chuckle.

_I sound just like Thorin, or Mum_, he mused.

She looked up at him with a confused and suspicious expression.

"I understand you," he continued. "But Thorin will not put up with it, you realize."

"Then how does he deal with you?" she asked without thinking, and restrained the urge to bit her lip at the taken aback look he gave her. He hadn't been expecting her words.

"I guess that is something you would have to ask him."

"Will he make me stay behind?" she asked, and bit her lip. He shrugged.

"It would be hard to say."

They stood in silence for a few awkward moments, listening to the elvish music being carried on the fresh wind and the dwarves' distant laughter from the dinner table. Kili looked from the wall behind the girl, to back down at her, and he couldn't avoid noticing her change in attitude.

She looked…lighter, somehow. As if an unseen weight previously upon her had only recently been lifted. And it provided her with a fresher appearance, as if, like most residents of the Shire he'd encountered, she was livelier. The change had been momentarily dampened by his efforts at the dinner table, but now that she seemed more relaxed, it was beginning to return to her.

Maybe fresh baths, food, and the more hospitable atmosphere had done them all some good. Her clothes were happier too, brighter in color.

"What are you wearing?" were the unfortunate tumble of uncensored words that fell from his mouth.

"A dress?" she returned slowly. His question had been abrupt, so much so that she involuntarily giggled.

"No, no, I mean…it suits you." She restrained another laugh at how uncomfortable he looked. Kili was an enigma to her. He could be so childish at times: carefree, mischievous, always joking and arguing with his brother. Though she suspected these "arguments" were never serious, as neither ever became angry with one another. Or at least, not so angry that a wrestling match or verbal sparring couldn't dissipate the tension. She chalked them down to simple sibling quarrels (she and her brother have had their fair share in the past). There were times, however, rare times, when he seemed pensive, quiet, even serious as he was now. But always brutally honest.

It was…refreshing, in a way. Where Fili was always the more democratic of the two, explaining things in the least offensive of ways if she happened to take a well-aimed jibe "too personally," for the most part, Aneira always knew where she stood with Kili. He was confusing her now though.

While he was still being his usual tactless self, he was…apologizing. For his _behavior_ of all things. She never thought she would hear those particular words escape his mouth, and his sudden embarrassment, however fleeting, was a subtle boost in her confidence that she'd not had in any of their previous conversations (if they could be called as such).

"Are you attempting to give me a compliment?"

"Am I failing miserably?" he asked, rubbing behind his neck uneasily.

"Yes," she stated frankly, but she grinned nonetheless. "But thank you."

"Don't mention it," he said, averting his eyes.

_Really, don't mention it_, he thought. _I don't know why I even said anything about it._ Fili would never let him live it down.

"No really, thank you. For understanding," said Aneira, and the small smile she gave him was genuine. Kili avoided her gaze and instead, his eyes drew to her hand that once again toyed with something around her neck.

"What's that?" he asked. She looked at him in surprise before she realized what he was looking at.

"Oh, nothing…it's just a necklace." It was a silver pendant on a chain of pearls and silver, bordered with branches that wound about each other in elaborate patterns. Far more extravagant than what she wore, he was puzzled as to why she would have something of such craftsmanship.

"Is there anything inside?" he asked. She nodded and reached down to open the pendant, revealing a single letter carved in the middle.

"It's just an 'H' etched inside. I…never knew what it stood for, but my father made this for me…a long time ago," said Aneira, and the chain was long enough that she could place the pendant in Kili's hands without taking off the chain. He examined it with care, noting the way she had delicately—almost reluctantly—set it down in his hands. As he suspected, it certainly was not just a necklace.

Upon further inspection, he realized that it wasn't an "H" at all. The middle line that joined the two outer, parallel lines of the letter was placed too askew for it to have been accidental, unless her father was truly a novice at forging. Somehow, he didn't think this was the case.

"Are you sure he was the one who forged it?" She gave him a questioning look.

"He told me himself that he had made it…why?"

"Because it isn't an 'H.' It is a dwarvish symbol," he said, and pointed out his observations about the askew line.

"And how does that make it a dwarvish symbol?" she asked.

"It's the letter 'E' in Khuzdûl, dwarvish language," said Kili, though he could see the look upon Aneira's face was disbelieving.

"Are you sure?" she asked skeptically. But then he saw something behind her eyes that seemed to click, or jumpstart a memory.

"Aneira, you said your father's home was in the mountains…was he a dwarf?" he asked hesitantly. From everything she had told them about her father to pure observation (her height mostly), all of the dwarves had been sure from the first night while she slept soundly in their camp that she wasn't just a girl. Though she didn't have the feet of a hobbit, leading them to an alternative explanation that put a most secretive, yet amused look on Gandalf that had become so familiar to them all. It left Thorin with a deep frown before he retired to his bedroll, and his youngest nephew (still nursing bruises on his back from her tumble out of the tree) with his mind racing as he struggled to fall asleep.

Aneira paused for a long moment, seemingly debating with herself. Finally, she gently retrieved the pendant from his hands and motioned for Kili to sit down against the wall beside her. He obliged, now extremely curious, and waited for her answer though he could probably guess it.

"Yes and no…it's a bit complicated," she replied. He was already confused. She could see this, and only hesitated for a moment before continuing on. "My father's grandfather's side of the family descends from dwarves of Erebor, but my great grandfather married a young woman of Dale. Their daughter Eira, my grandmother and partial namesake, later married a dwarf of Erebor, Anhun, son of Anhein…my grandfather."

When he had taken in all of the complexities of her family tree, the pieces began to fit together in his mind. Kili remembered from his childhood of Balin's many stories near the hearth in their home, where Kili and his brother would listen with rapt attention about the beauty of Dale and its people, and how easily it was in those days for dwarves and men of Dale to get along with one another. The exchange of trade tended to leave both peoples on friendly terms. It was not uncommon for the two to intermingle, even find love, though the latter was admittedly rare.

"_Dwarf women are rare and precious, lads," said Balin as he stroked his graying beard. "It is why you must always treat them with the utmost respect. But for those of us lucky enough to be considered 'tall' in stature, they may find themselves a worthy mate elsewhere."_

"_But the Men aren't like us, Balin," said Kili. "They are rude and look down on us for coming here."_

_He looked over at his brother who seemed to agree with him, while Balin appeared pensive._

"_Perhaps here in the Blue Mountains, but not all of the race of Men are the same. The people of Dale were always honorable folk who respected our customs and traditions as much as we did theirs," he said. "Superficial differences do not make others inferior, Kili. What matters is the nature of their heart." _

"That's why you're so keen on helping us," said Kili, understanding donning and lighting his eyes. "You truly share our heritage…you are a dwarf."

_That explains her height as well_, he thought. _No mere human could be only a bit taller than a hobbit._

Aneira hesitated. By blood, it was true. But in heart, hardly. She had not the stamina, the drive, nor the ambition that they had. She may be a daughter of Anian, but this did not mean she had his tenacity, nor the dwarvish ire her mother said his side of the family possessed—the ire for the wrong that had been done to their people, and for the suffering they'd been made to endure. She had not been raised to know it, not that a proud dwarf such as Kili, one of Thorin's heirs within the line of Durin, would understand.

"…Yes," Aneira said with a sigh. She actually thought it had been obvious, but who was she to judge? "Though my mother was also of Dale, so I'm a bit more…mixed, you could say."

"Why didn't you just tell us this from the beginning? Thorin would have been more open to the idea of you joining us."

Aneira bit her lip and paused, mulling over her next words for a moment before answering.

"…Well, if you remember, I did say my father had been forced to flee the mountain and wander with the rest of the dwarves," she said. "He remembers Thorin, you know, helping lead everyone out when it happened."

"Really? Well…the Blue Mountains have not been so bad," Kili admitted.

"How do they compare to Erebor, then?" asked Aneira.

"Oh, no, I didn't mean to give the impression that I've seen it. No…I was born and raised in the Blue Mountains," he clarified.

"What? I thought you were older…"

_Well, that's a first_, thought Kili. Normally he received the opposite opinions, based on his behavior and conduct. But for the first time he found her innocence refreshing.

"How old do you think I am?" he asked with a short laugh.

"Um…I would guess…thirty?" Kili had to let out a laugh, and her indignant look only fueled it. He couldn't stop until he was short of breath, even though in reality it probably wasn't all that funny.

"Do you know anything at all about dwarven lifespans?" he asked with yet another chuckle. She rolled her eyes and shoved his shoulder.

"Care to enlighten me?"

"Well, for starters, I'm seventy-seven." He could have laughed again at her wide eyes and gaping mouth, but restrained himself, lest he earn a punch to the shoulder this time.

"A dwarf has a lifespan of about two hundred and fifty years," Kili explained. "My brother is eighty-two, making us five years apart."

"Oh…I suppose that makes sense."

"Did your father not tell you any of this?" he asked incredulously. For how could she not know something as simple as how long a _dwarf_ lived if she was one herself? Granted, she didn't have a beard, but neither did he (yet), and he had the distinct feeling that she was much younger than him…though perhaps not in mind. He didn't know her well enough yet to judge.

"No…you see, I didn't learn of my heritage until…well…" She struggled with her words, and Kili had another distinct feeling that she had only been told very recently.

"…After my father's death…my mother told me."

"Ah…I see."

Well, he supposed that explained things then. Her pendant, her motives, her temperament…he couldn't begrudge her for them, then. She had no concept of war or battle, but her heart, at the very least, was true. He supposed she was not so different from Bilbo in that regard, either. In fact (and this thought stung the slightest bit), he supposed she was not so different from himself.

By the time they parted ways to retire for much needed sleep, Kili realized he never returned to the "feast" that had been laid out for them by the elves. He could see the fire still going, but he already felt his eyes drooping.

His mind was still running in circles, however. The conversation he'd only just finished wouldn't leave him. And neither would thoughts of the lady in their company.

It was strange, he thought, how merely days before he would have passed her off as ditzy and annoying, a girl trying to play the hero in a world she knew nothing of. While this still may be partially true, he found her presence…refreshing. Perhaps enjoyable.

_At least she tells interesting stories._

But they really weren't stories. They were bits and pieces of her that were only now beginning to connect, things that brought new light upon her.

"_But you know, that's not all my mother told me…"_

Just as he was about to ascend the stairs leading to their designated chambers, he was stopped by his uncle's heavy hand on his arm.

"Yes, Uncle?" he asked, and stepped back to face him.

"Did you eat enough? Balin said you never returned to the table." Thorin's gaze was suspicious and cold, but Kili saw the veiled concern in his eyes. He had known the dwarf long enough to read between the ice in his words.

"Are you kidding? I ate two meals and a half before even getting washed up. I'm fine, Uncle," Kili assured. The suspicion in Thorin's gaze didn't waver, however.

"When we leave Rivendell," Kili began, but paused to consider his words before looking into his uncle's eyes. "Will Aneira be coming with us?"

Thorin raised a brow.

_So this is what they were talking about after the scene they made_,he thought.

"I thought the two of you didn't get on," he remarked. Kili looked suddenly sheepish, though he tried to cover it with a bit of charm. Thorin hid his amusement at the way his youngest nephew always seemed to have it at the ready.

"That was a bit of fun on our part, nothing more."

Thorin understood "our" to mean Kili and his brother, as per the usual case when it came to his nephews.

"Yes, well, your fun tends to get the best of you." Kili quirked his head in a gesture of begrudging acceptance of this fact, but the serious light in his eyes brought Thorin back to Kili's earlier question.

"We had a deal, and she broke it. I doubt you will see her again after we leave this forsaken place," he said, and lifted his eyes to their pristine surroundings. He grimaced.

"You once told Fili and I that every able dwarf has a duty to their kin," said Kili, "And to reclaim our homeland is a right possessed by anyone that shares our heritage."

Thorin gave Kili a long look.

"Yes, any _dwarf_."

"And she _is_ a dwarf…mostly," said Kili. "Her father was, and he lived in Erebor. She said he remembered you leading them out…"

"And what else did she happen to tell you so conveniently?" asked Thorin. Kili gave him an annoyed look. He didn't enjoy being patronized.

"That you saved her mother's life."

* * *

"So, where did you go off to tonight?" Fili asked. He prepped his bed, peeling back layers of blankets and excess pillows. He swore the elves' pretentious way of living was ingrained in everything, even down to the sheer amount of bedding he had to go through just to find the mattress. Kili had come in just to say goodnight before he retired, but "little brother" wasn't getting away so easily.

"What do you mean?" Kili said with an amicable smile. Fili gave him a _look_ that said he knew the younger dwarf was lying. Kili knew _exactly_ what he was referring to.

"I felt badly for provoking her, Fili."

"Understandable, you caused quite a scene. Or rather, _she_ caused quite a scene."

"I just wanted to tease her a little, but I pushed it too far."

"When do you not?" Fili asked with a laugh. Kili glared at him and picked up one of the pillows Fili had tossed onto the floor. He threw it with precise aim—right at his brother's head.

_Damn, he caught it_, thought Kili.

"We talked…" he trailed, thinking of the near hour they had spent. He didn't really know how he felt about it, but something had changed, ever so slightly. They could be civil to each other, that much was certain.

"About?" asked Fili. He sat on the bed and grimaced at how it sunk a bit underneath him.

"Many things. But there was something that I found…interesting," said Kili, and he proceeded to recount to Fili his discoveries of Aneira's heritage and what she knew. Fili rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he processed the information, then shook his head.

"Perhaps…she truly can't be trusted," said Fili. Kili rolled his eyes before shaking his own head at his brother in disbelief.

"You've _got_ to be joking."

"I'm not, Kili. If she couldn't even deign to give us even _that_ much information, that would have only helped her case, what else do you think she's hiding?" asked Fili. "I'm not saying she is, I'm only saying it's suspicious."

"I don't know, maybe she's plotting to shave your beard in your sleep. I know I would," Kili teased, earning a smack in the face with a pillow.

"Be serious, Kili!"

"_You're_ the one who just hit me with a _pillow!_" Kili cried indignantly.

"Maybe it'll knock some sense into you!" said Fili. "We can't trust her, so don't let your guard down. What would Thorin say?"

"Thorin doesn't trust _anyone_," Kili pointed out.

"He trusts _us_," Fili countered. "And if we let him down because of her, do you think he will ever trust us with much else again?"

Kili grew silent at this, for he knew his uncle as well as Fili, and knew in his heart that his brother was right about one thing. Once one lost Thorin Oakenshield's trust, it was nearly impossible to get it back.

Fili was always the more practical one.

"Get some sleep, brother. Midsummer's eve is in two days, and it looks as if we're going to need the energy if the rest of our journey contains as much excitement as it's had so far," Fili said, and wished his brother a good night with a brief embrace. Kili returned it, though he left the room feeling much more conflicted than he had been before walking in.

* * *

**If you happen to be confused by anything unexplained in this chapter, not to worry. All will be clarified in time...and as per usual, feel free to drop a quick review before you go! Again, Happy New Year! **


	7. The Lively Dance

**AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I hope you all had an amazing start to the new year. I had a bit of a rocky one with school starting up again, but I still remembered to update! Let me know if you enjoyed this relatively light part in the story.**

* * *

_~Ere Break of Day~_

Chapter Seven – The Lively Dance

"_Melisse, why do you always do this to me?"_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Stop giggling! The dress is bad enough."_

"_Why? It looks nice."_

"_It's too…_frilly_. And the sleeves are annoying, they hang at my elbows."_

"_It's feminine, not frilly."_

"_Isn't that the same thing? And what about the sleeves?"_

"_Forget about the sleeves! And no, it's not, Aneira. I don't know why you're fretting so much about it being girly; you wear rouge and fix your hair into lovely braids."_

"_So? I attribute that to being presentable. This shade of pink belongs on a doll."_

"_It is _not _pink, it's lavender."_

"_Is there a difference?"_

"_Are you color blind? Of course there is! Just like there is a difference between femininity and 'frilly.'"_

"_Right next to 'you' and 'intelligent.'"_

"_Oh, shut up! You look charming, and my intelligence has everything to with it."_

"_Whatever you say."_

* * *

She dreamt of her brother.

It was the third time this month, and like the times before, she'd wanted to dissolve into tears when she realized how much she truly missed him. Aneira often thought of her mother as well, but as much as Aneira loved her, they didn't have the same…closeness, that she and her brother shared. In no means did she think of going back before the quest was resolved, but she often thought of home and the routine of it all. She hadn't missed it at first, but it had been familiar, something she could readily dive into and forget her troubles while doing it. Aneira couldn't do that here.

So her excuse for being quiet at breakfast was being tired, even though all of them had woken mid-morning, only an hour and a half before noon. It was far later than what she—or any of the others in the company, for that matter—was used to, but it provided for an interesting development. With all the talk that had been going on about swords and other weaponry, Bilbo was finally inquired about the sword Gandalf had found for him.

"So, does your skill in conkers match your skill with that sword of yours?" Bofur teased. Bilbo blushed, but he shook his head good naturedly.

"I still have to learn, I'm afraid."

"Well, how do you think you're going to learn?"

"Well…"

"And while we're at it, Aneira should learn too. Am I right?" said Bofur as he gestured to Aneira. She had just taken a mouthful of eggs as Bofur spoke, but she looked up, her attention aroused.

"A wise idea," said Gandalf. He glanced over at Thorin with a pointed look. "They must learn to defend themselves."

Thorin gave him a bland stare.

"And who of my men would fill _that_ enormous task?" he asked. "It would take time, and no small degree of patience."

Aneira let out a sigh of relief, even as she was enormously confused. Why would Thorin allow this if he didn't intend on allowing her to continue the journey with them?

Gandalf pursed his lips at Thorin's choice of words, but then smiled affably.

"Well, if none of yours are up to the task, I'm sure any of Lord Elrond's people would be capable. There are many known for their skill with a blade, and would be happy to oblige them."

It was Thorin's turn to be pricked with an age-old annoyance, and his lips compressed into a line. He looked to the band of dwarves before him. His eyes wandered over each and weighing the possibilities. Dwalin was surely able, but he would need aid with how far and how hard he could push a girl and a hobbit in training—both without the strength of grown dwarves. His nephews were a logical choice; both had received their battle training from Thorin himself, as well as Dwalin, and had more energy to expend that anyone else. It would be good experience for them, he decided, and it would give them something constructive to do.

_So they do not try to burn down the city without my knowledge, or anything of the sort through their usual antics_, thought Thorin.

"Dwalin, could you grant me this favor?" he asked, regarding his old friend with an almost pitying glance. Dwalin nodded reluctantly.

"As long as yer sure."

"I am, and my nephews will aid you."

xXx

"What did I tell you?"

"Oh, stuff it, Fili."

"I knew Uncle would do this to us."

"It won't be so bad, just lighten up."

"The woman barely knows what a hilt is, and Bilbo isn't much better."

"Neither did you when you first started."

"I was a child when I first started, Kili."

"Oh, give it a rest, will you? Dwalin is calling us over."

It was back to basics for the brothers, demonstrating simple moves over and over again until both students had it ingrained into their memory. Kili remembered doing the same thing when he first started—repeating the same things until the move became second nature. But he pitied them; they would be doing this nonstop for hours until Dwalin had covered as much as he could within one day. Kili knew the older dwarf would want to get to sparring as soon as possible, and who knew when Thorin would decide it was time to leave. It could be today, it could be tomorrow. But for now, it was hard work.

He observed that on most things, Aneira would grasp quickly, putting all her effort into doing it right the first time before moving on.

_Most likely due to her heritage_, Kili thought. And from what she had told him, her father had been in possession of various forms of weaponry, which also told Kili that the man probably hadn't been a novice at the skill.

Bilbo, however, struggled in a battle between his mind and his hands. He told his mind to do one thing, but his hands would just not follow through, and would do another thing entirely if he went too fast. He put his all into it, however, and earnestly strove to correct his mistakes when he saw Dwalin getting frustrated. It was just his luck that Dwalin had Kili help the poor hobbit, while Kili was sure Fili was getting too much enjoyment out of correcting Aneira.

It wasn't as if he was _saying_ anything to suggest such a thing; he was the epitome of civility and constructive criticism. Nor were his actions negative or condescending. But there was something in his eyes that Kili couldn't quite place…or perhaps he was just losing his mind.

_It's _Fili_ I'm thinking about here, not some selfish brute_, thought Kili. _No matter his reservations about her, he'll still be respectful at the very least. _

Not that they'd been respectful to her at first, but he dismissed it. They'd just been annoyed and had let off some steam by poking fun at her. He ignored the small pinprick of guilt.

It was in the past.

For a moment he thought Thorin wouldn't keep to his word about allowing Aneira to stay with them, but that dissolved into satisfaction once Thorin agreed to her and Bilbo being trained. He wouldn't have included her if his intention was to leave her in Rivendell.

"That was good, Bilbo. Let's try it again," said Kili as Bilbo had finally struck against his blade with some stable force.

* * *

Fili was quickly becoming irritated.

He could see that she was tiring, but her optimism never waned, nor did her enthusiasm. It somehow reminded him of Kili, though without his usual charm he always managed to have on the ready. The kind of charm that allowed Kili to talk himself out of nearly any situation relatively unscathed. He didn't know what it was about Aneira that Fili innately could not trust or like, but he had a feeling it stemmed from her sheer audacity.

At least with Bilbo, he had something to offer. He was their burglar, even if so far he was proving to be an inadequate one. Aneira had no redeeming qualities besides her cooking and her cheerful attitude, yet she had the audacity to join a quest to which she had not been invited. And, like the hobbit, she had no experience with whatsoever in the world around her.

But his mother had taught him to be respectable. The mischievous behavior he and Kili expressed with her had been childish on their behalf, he could admit that. From now on, he wouldn't actively try to upset her.

But he didn't have to like her.

* * *

The next day was better.

Or depending on the way one viewed, it, worse.

While the rest of the dwarves explored the city and caught up on much needed rest, Dwalin, Fili, Kili, Aneira, and Bilbo were out in the courtyard. They worked on counterattacking before moving onto building up their reactionary response that would be needed in battle. And it was another few hours before Dwalin dismissed them, and bade them to get cleaned up before they joined the others for lunch.

Aneira sighed as she sat down at the table. She was beyond exhausted, and her limbs ached, but it was a _good_ ache. A satisfying ache; one she knew was there because she was accomplishing a goal. It was good to have goals, she reflected. She had worked under a routine at home and it was familiar…but routine became dull.

With the dwarves, now everything was new and exciting, but with no planned course of action for the most part. Life _happened _around them, if the incident with the trolls was any indication. It could be frustrating in a way, but in others, it was…liberating. To not be bound by any laundry list of chores or schedules.

Aneira perked up when Ori, sitting on her left, served something hot into the bowl in front of her.

"I know you're probably sick of anything with a broth, but here's some soup, before everyone eats it all," he said with a smile. She returned the gesture and thanked him gratefully.

"How's swordsmanship training going?" he asked pleasantly.

"It's tough, but…rewarding," she said with a short laugh. "I'm getting there, I think."

"She has good teachers," Kili said smugly, joining in the conversation and taking the empty seat beside Aneira. She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, well, don't get too much of a big head. You're not even the one helping me," said Aneira. "Dwalin has been an excellent instructor, and Fili a great aid."

"Sounds like it's coming along then," said Ori.

"Definitely," Aneira said with a smile.

"What are we talking about?" asked Bilbo, who sat down next to Kili.

"How our lessons are going," said Aneira.

"Oh, well…I'm afraid you would have to ask Kili that question, I'm not sure at all how I'm faring," Bilbo said with a chuckle. It made Kili laugh, but not out of spite.

"What are you talking about, Bilbo? You're doing great," he assured.

"Ah, well then my suffering has not been for naught," the hobbit joked.

"Look, Fili and I are going out after lunch to see the rest of the city. Would anyone care to join us?" Kili asked.

"Well…why not?" said Aneira. She shared a look with Bilbo, who nodded in agreement.

"Ori?" Kili questioned.

"I'm sorry, I think I'll be spending the afternoon with my brothers," said Ori. "But you go ahead."

"All right, well when we finish, we'll go."

After finishing their meal, they set out into the city following the many winding paths throughout.

Elven and dwarven grudge be damned, not even a dwarf could deny the beauty of Imladris. The architecture in and of itself was breathtaking, and the bustling marketplace had everything and anything to see—from kiosks and shops to restaurants and music halls. What Aneira enjoyed most of all was a garden. But this was no mere garden. It was akin to a forest filled with plants and trees and flowers of all species and colors and sizes. Some of which she recognized, but most of which were altogether new to her. But what made the atmosphere grand were the few elves that were playing a tune as others walked around, talking and laughing.

It only needed some livening up.

And if there was one thing that livened up a crowd, it was music. Not the soft, melodic lull that the elves now played. Though it was calming, and actually quite lovely by Aneira's standards, she thought both Bilbo and the two dwarves accompanying them might appreciate something a bit more…energetic.

"This looks…colorful, but…boring," said Kili. "Can we move on?"

"No, no, wait, give me a moment," said Aneira, and she made her way over to the elves playing their instruments.

"Take your time," said Bilbo, taking in his surroundings with a wide smile. "This is the first place I've been to since I left Bag End that looks remotely inviting."

"What is she doing?" asked Fili. They watched as she conversed with the elves. Though their faces remained passive, they seemed to be nodding along with whatever it was she was saying.

"Whatever it is, it looks like she's saying quite a lot," Kili quipped, noting how she made extensive gestures with her hands, and how her head bobbed as she nodded. Eventually, she turned and beckoned them over just as the music began to pick up into something livelier, something that reminded Bilbo of the drinking songs in the local pubs, and something that reminded Fili and Kili of the merry songs they themselves sang along with their kin. It was something familiar, something joyful—something Aneira was inviting them to join in on.

Many elves stopped to stare at the peculiar scene as Aneira pulled Bilbo along into the center of the clearing. They began to dance how those in the local pubs of the Shire would dance, and as the steps were simple, and the melody was sprightly, and the makeshift "dance floor" was welcoming, some joined in the fun.

But while the two dwarves stayed to the side, laughing and singing along with the elves (even as the dwarves remained wary of them), they wouldn't dance. It was not that dwarves as a rule did not dance. It was that _these _dwarves did not dance. Not to mention, Fili at least was sure the elves wouldn't appreciate what they considered overly "boisterous" behavior that dwarves were notorious for.

Fili tried to explain as much to Aneira, but the concept was lost on her.

"What do you mean, 'you don't dance?' Everyone can dance," she said with a smile. It was one of the few guilty pleasures she indulged when she and her brother had allotted free time to spare. They'd venture down into town; her brother for a drink, and she for a night where there were no chores to be done, no vegetables or clothes or fabrics to sell, and no cares to speak of. She would listen to the fiddles and the keyed pianos and dance away with the rest of the Shirefolk, relieving her thoughts in lighthearted laughter and footwork.

"Yes, but it's not that we _can't_, it's that we _don't_. But don't let us stop you, go ahead and have fun," said Fili. He could see Bilbo happily tapping his feet near where the elves played their music, and a smile lit his face. Kili stood beside him and nodded with a grin. But Aneira would not be swayed. Instead, she smirked and grabbed Fili's hand, pulling him headlong into the crowd. She laughed all the way and ignored the dwarf's meager objections. Kili's boisterous laughter could be heard from the sidelines as Aneira "aided" Fili into the dance.

"I don't know the steps," Fili protested.

"Here," said Aneira, and while standing next to him, moved her feet in a succession of patterns that were easy enough for Fili to follow, and soon he was able to join the rest of the group that were weaving in and out, switching partners and moving on like so.

"I don't think you need my help anymore, I'm going to get your brother," she called, and he nodded with a laugh as he was joined by a she elf. They were not close enough in height that they could entwine their arms together, so she simply held his hand instead as they twirled about each other. Fili didn't seem to mind.

"Come on, Kili!" said Aneira as she approached him. Her eyes were wide and bright, her black hair loose and wild about her from the braid it had been brushed and coiled into, and her smile warm and inviting.

"Oh, no. You might have gotten my brother, but you won't get me!" Kili declared. He considered himself a lover of music and song, but despite his overall outgoing nature, he had never been comfortable amidst the throng of dancing bodies. He preferred sitting to the side with a good drink in his hand and a hot meal, though he was decent whilst equipped with a fiddle and bow. Watching the group of elves now in their complicated steps and turns, he hoped Aneira would leave well enough alone and take him at his word.

Kili realized too late that it wouldn't be enough.

"Dance with me!" were the only words needed before she was able to catch him off guard. With her arm wrapped around his, she managed to get him into the merry swing.

"I'm a terrible dancer!" he exclaimed above the music. "I'll surely trip over your toes and fall to the ground."

"Even if you happen to do so, who will know but us?" said Aneira.

And without warning, she initiated the first step.

It was hours later, when the music had long died out, and the lights had gone out in the city, and Kili's head met the soft fabric of his pillow that he realized.

He hadn't miss-stepped once.

* * *

"This is _Orcrist_, the Goblin Cleaver," Lord Elrond recognized as he held Thorin's sword. "A famous blade forged by the High Elves of the West, my kin."

He handed the sword back to Thorin with ease, and smiled at the grateful nod he received from the dwarf.

"This is Glamdring," said the elf, and he unsheathed the sword Gandalf had found for himself within the troll cave. "The Foehammer, sword of the king of Gondolin."

"How did you come by these?" he asked.

"We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road," said Gandalf, "Shortly before we were ambushed by Orcs."

"And what were you doing on the Great East Road?" Elrond questioned, though there was a knowing glint in his eyes.

But Elrond's voice seemed to drift off as he continued to converse with Gandalf and Thorin, while Bilbo carefully examined his own sword pensively. He wondered if perhaps the lord would be able to recognize Bilbo's sword as well.

"I wouldn't bother, laddie," Balin advised from his seat next to the hobbit. "Swords are named for the great deeds they do in war."

"So are you saying my sword hasn't seen battle?" asked Bilbo. He thought the dwarf was being a bit patronizing, but he made no comment on this.

"I'm not actually sure it is a sword," Balin replied, to Bilbo's disappointment. "More of a letter-opener, really."

The hobbit huffed and ate his meal quietly as he listened to Gandalf and the elven lord speak, and the dwarves eat noisily as usual. Silently, he wondered when they would have to leave this city. It was the most beautiful place he'd ever seen, and he was loath to leave its comfort. He had a sinking feeling that their departure would be sooner rather than later.

It would be later that night, on Midsummer's Eve, that Bilbo recounted to Aneira how Gandalf convinced Thorin to show Lord Elrond the map that Gandalf had given the dwarf, and how Elrond had been able to read the "moon runes" etched within the parchment. The two sat outside her room, talking in hushed voices so that the other dwarves could continue sleeping.

"And what of this secret door? What is all that nonsense?" asked Aneira, who was still trying to make sense of everything Bilbo had thus far been telling her.

"We must be standing in front of a door that leads inside the mountain, but we must also be standing there precisely on Durin's Day, the start of the dwarves' New Year, when the last moon of autumn and the first moon of winter in the sky are together," said Bilbo. "The last light of Durin's Day will shine down on the keyhole, for which Thorin has the key. The tricky part will be to get there in time."

"That sounds complicated," said Aneira. "But that means we will have to move quickly. I wonder when it is that Thorin will want to move on from here. We've been in Rivendell for three days already."

"I don't know, Aneira. But I should think soon."

They were woken an hour before dawn, and by the time the sun had risen into the eastern sunrise, Thorin led them out of the Valley and into the Misty Mountains.

* * *

**Now, I know Bilbo was never given any sword-fighting tips in the book, but as they stayed in Rivendell for a few days in the book with few descriptions of what they did, I thought it to be something both practical and plausible to add. Drop a comment in the little box below before you go! ;)**


	8. Over and Under Mountains Cold

**AN: Here's another longer chapter for you all. Thanks to those who reviewed, especially the Guests!**

* * *

_~Ere Break of Day~_

Chapter Eight – Over and Under Mountains Cold

Bilbo was woken at an hour that a hobbit would never consider respectable.

But there were a good many things about this expedition that Bilbo did not consider _respectable_.

An hour before dawn rose, Bofur had knocked quietly and slipped into his room. He woke Bilbo, telling him to dress for travel, for they would be leaving with the sunrise. The hobbit dressed in a flurry and packed his satchel with necessities and other provisions the dwarves had scored. As silently as possible, the company trekked up the hill and out of the Valley. It wasn't until they had done so that Bilbo realized they had left without Gandalf. He looked back at the shining city longingly, but Bofur pat him on the shoulder, encouraging him to move forward.

By the time the sun had fully risen, they were walking on raised fields and on the edge of a gorge, and then up into a collection of mountains by the afternoon. The sky became dark and gloomy, clouds completely shielding the sun and all forms of light. It was as if night had fallen early as the winds picked up, and rain began to fall in abundance. Rolls of thunder began to sound, though no lightening was visible as of yet.

Bilbo had never walked so much in his life, and for the first time he found that his poor feet ached immeasurably, along with the rest of his legs. At that moment he was ever grateful for his walking stick, or else he wouldn't have been able to keep up. As an added bonus, he was soaked to the bone, and his hair stuck to his forehead and neck uncomfortably as water ran into his eyes and obscured his vision. It was not something he appreciated while walking up the side of a mountain in the near dark, so close to the edge of a pitfall; once he slid on an odd stone. He would have slipped to his death had it not been for Bofur and Dwalin pulling him back to the safety of the wall.

"Bilbo, are you all right?" called Aneira. She stood on the other side of Dwalin, looking pale and wide-eyed against the contrast of the dark, soaked hair sticking to her face. Bilbo nodded shakily, though he was sure it wasn't at all convincing.

"We must find shelter!" Thorin shouted over the noise of the rain and wind.

"_LOOK OUT!_" Dwalin bellowed. All looked up to see an enormous boulder being hurled in their direction, though it was high above them. It smashed against the rock face, crumbling and raining down upon them like an avalanche. They were forced to plaster themselves against the mountain as they held onto each other for support.

"This is no thunderstorm," said Balin as he pointed up into the sky. "It's a thunder _battle!_"

Aneira looked up in the direction the dwarf was pointing, and out from the distant rock formations she could see a large mass of boulder rising out of the mountain. It appeared to be the figure of a man, though it was difficult to make out if it even had a face. But it held an even larger rock in its hands.

"Bless me, the legends are true!" said Bofur. He moved away from the wall to get a closer look at the marvel before them. "Giants! _Stone giants!_"

The rock was hurled several feet into the air, embedding itself into a second giant the company could not see from their position until it was knocked into view. But then the mountain face they held steadfastly to rumbled and quaked, and to their horror, it began to split across the middle.

Kili looked down as a line cracked beneath his feet. His brother held tightly onto his arm to steady him. But the crack widened, quickly forming a crevice and forcing Kili to step over to the other side, with Bofur's help.

"Kili! Grab my hand!" shouted Fili, but as Kili reached, he found that Fili was already too far from his grasp. He looked up with wide eyes into Fili's fear-filled ones, and a feeling of dread worked its way up his spine. His stomach lurched as he watched the mountain face his brother was on careen away from him. He looked up to see that they were actually standing upon a rock structure that formed a giant's knees. And as their rock wall fell to the left, it slammed into the mountain side, creating a path they could readily follow. But it was not so for the others.

The giant was pushed back when another crashed into it, sending it sprawling backwards, and Kili could only watch as his friends and brother were sent flying past—into the mountainside ahead of them. He could barely hear his own cries of anguish over the sounds of the weather in addition to the outcries of the other dwarves (namely Thorin's).

Kili could only register himself running—as fast as the slippery rock path would allow—in the direction of his brother. He was the last in the line, so it took him longer than the others to reach the clearing in which the mountain-path widened. But the rush of relief he received at seeing the rest of his kin safe, though prone on the ground amidst fallen rocks, was nearly staggering.

"Where's Bilbo?" he heard Bofur call out. Kili was not four feet away from the fallen dwarf, and he looked about, trying in vain to spot a curly blonde head.

"Over there!" Nori shouted, and then Kili saw the hobbit. He was dangling from the edge of the mountain, and all at once Kili and the closest dwarves attempted to rescue him, holding out their hands for Bilbo to grab onto. But it was Thorin who jumped off the side of the mountain, still holding onto the edge for support, and grasped the back of the hobbit's jacket.

He pulled Bilbo up with a grunt, and no small amount of force. Bofur received him and yanked him the rest of the way, while Dwalin helped Thorin back up the side of the wall.

"I thought we had lost our burglar," Dwalin said with a humorless chuckle.

"He's been lost," said Thorin as he stood and brushed himself off. "Ever since he left home…he has no place amongst us."

Kili pat the hobbit on the back, giving him a sympathetic look. He knew his uncle's words were harsh, even if they were partially truth. But at the moment, he couldn't think of any words of comfort he could offer the hobbit that wouldn't come out pitying.

_No one likes to be patronized_, he rationalized. Instead, he moved on in favor of finding his brother.

Stepping over rocks and around fellow dwarves, helping up those who clearly needed help (such as Bombur), Kili made his way across the wide path. Eventually, he was able to find a blonde head surfacing about the rubble and shakily climbing his way onto his feet.

"There you are!" said Kili with a laugh. Fili grinned as the two clasped arms.

"Miss me?" Fili asked.

"Who? _You?_" Kili teased, but his smirk softened into a smile. "Good to find you in one piece."

"It's good to _be_ in one piece," Fili remarked. "I don't plan on taking any cliff dives anytime soon."

"Good, because you're not allowed to do that again, all right?" Kili said. His tone was playful, but Fili could see the underlying seriousness in Kili's eyes.

"Right," Fili agreed, and ruffled the younger dwarf's hair as he walked past. He ignored Kili's indignant protest in favor of following Thorin, who led them into the mountain. They'd found a cave to rest in for the night and though it was dark, it was dry. Just then, _dry_ was what they all needed.

Aneira had been petrified, to say the least. Never in her life had she been more so, and the episode with the trolls had pulled a mighty number over on her. And never in her life had she been more relieved after staring up at the mountain and the still raining sky, when she found that she was not dead as of yet. She'd fallen on Oin once again, though to her credit, it was (once again) entirely accidental. But when she eventually was able to disentangle herself and stand, and see that Bilbo was safely sitting against the wall of the mountain (though clearly shaken), she realized many of the dwarves were following Thorin into yet another cave. Considering the last two hadn't been very pleasant, she was hesitant to enter this one. Nevertheless, she knew she had no other choice. It was either go inside, or freeze in the cold rain.

The first thing she did upon entering the cave was find a decent place to relieve herself of the load she carried, somewhere close to the fire. It was cumbersome, but necessary, as it held the belongings she had taken with her. There weren't many; her spare dress (before leaving Rivendell, she had changed back into her warmer travelling attire), extra socks, a brush, a bedroll, and a small blanket. Around her neck she wore her necklace safely tucked inside her clothing so that it would not be damaged.

She took out her bedroll and stripped of her outer jacket, setting it aside to hopefully dry in the night, and removed her long boots and socks. Putting on the dry pair, she set the other next to her jacket before wrapping the blanket around herself.

"Cold?" a voice asked above her. Upon looking up, she smiled a bit.

"Freezing. I don't know how you survive without some kind of sweater. At least your brother has his furs," she replied. Kili set down his bedroll a couple feet away, giving her space but still close enough to continue the conversation.

"My coat is thick enough, and it has fur lining underneath," he said. He peeled it back a bit for her scrutiny. "It's just extremely wet."

"I'm sure," she said, and twisted to coil the blanket tighter about her. The movement elicited a quick wince, though Kili was not slow to catch it.

"Are you hurt?" he asked. She met his gaze and read the genuine concern within them, but she shook her head.

"No, just a bruise…I think I landed on a rock. Or Oin's knee, it was hard to tell." He chuckled in response, but he noticed the way her hand disappeared into the cloak, probably clutching at her abused ribs.

"Well, if you need anything, I am sure Oin could oblige you," said Kili.

"I think I will be fine. A long night's rest would do all of us some good."

"Well, you're right about that," he said, and peeled off his over coat and boots, as she had done. Aneira didn't realize she was watching him until she noticed him shiver.

"Are you cold?" she asked. He chuckled a bit.

"Freezing," he said, using her previous reply. She smiled, though she bit her lip in thought. Propriety wouldn't call for them both to share her blanket, but perhaps she could help him.

"Wait, I think I might have another sweater in here somewhere," she said. She held up a finger and began digging into her pack.

"Oh, no, you don't have to—" His protests were ignored, which he found with Aneira was a recurring notion.

"Oh, it's not a sweater, but here's a blanket! Even better, right?" she asked, and tossed a blanket at the dwarf. "Goodnight!"

Kili caught it, and though he was about to object and return the offering, he marveled at the cotton's softness and warmth. A small smile graced his features.

When he looked up, Aneira was already settling down to sleep. She was curled up under her own covering, the navy color nearly black in the darkness of the cave. But the light from the fire cast a warm glow upon her pale face—the only part of her visible beneath her green hood.

She smiled at him before closing her eyes.

Kili didn't really know what to make of her. She was…strange. He and his brother had done nothing but mock her for the first weeks of her being in their company. He had saved her out of necessity, then mocked her again before finally giving her a roundabout, unsatisfactory compliment to make up for it. Nothing he had done had elicited her kindness, but she gave it freely.

As if he was a friend.

But as he thought back to Midsummer's Eve in Rivendell, realization hit him with a pang.

"_Dance with me!"_

Taking his hand in the garden had been her way of extending a hand of friendship.

And he had taken it.

What would Fili say? Surely nothing positive. But his brother had allowed himself to be whisked into the dance by her that night as well. In fact, his bed roll was placed directly next to Kili's, though Fili at the moment was conversing with Bofur. He looked over at Kili and raised a brow, gesturing at Aneira with his eyes.

"_Haira_," Kili mouthed, and smirked with satisfaction as Fili glared and returned to his conversation.

_And if it scores me free blankets,_ he thought in amusement, _perhaps it isn't a bad thing._

* * *

Bilbo had enough of this. Of adventure, of being looked down upon, of feeling incompetent, of being a burden. What was he putting up with it for? Gold? He could have scoffed at the thought. None of them wanted him here, save for Gandalf (who wasn't even here) and perhaps his neighbor. But she seemed to be getting along fine without him, as he could see from how she was talking with the youngest Durin heir. No, he needn't stay here any longer.

These were his thoughts as he packed his belongings in the dead of night. The dwarves slept on. When he was done, he stepped as carefully and quietly as he could around the dormant company. He'd made it halfway out of the cave when a voice stopped him.

"Where do you think you're going?" whispered Bofur. Bilbo turned and realized he must be standing the first watch.

"Back to Rivendell," Bilbo stated. Bofur's eyes widened and he stood, stepping closer to the hobbit.

"N-No, you can't turn back now," he said with a shake of his head. "You're part of the company, you're one of us."

Bilbo gave him a skeptical look.

"I'm not, now am I?" asked Bilbo. "Thorin said I should never have come and he was right…I'm not a Took, I'm a Baggins. I don't know what I was thinking…I should never have even run out my door."

"You're homesick, I understand," Bofur said with a nod and a knowing smile.

"No you _don't_, you _don't_ understand," Bilbo whispered furiously. "None of you do, you're _dwarves! _You're used to-to _this _life, always on the road, never sleeping in one place, _never belonging anywhere_."

Bilbo regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth, especially at the way Bofur's face fell.

"L-Look, I…I'm sorry I…I didn't mean…I apologize…"

"No…you're right," said Bofur. He turned to glance at the sleeping dwarves behind him.

_What a sorry lot we all are_, thought Bofur.

"We don't belong anywhere," he said, and gazed back at Bilbo. The hobbit looked up at him timidly, still quite embarrassed. "I wish you all the luck in the world."

Bofur smiled and laid a hand on Bilbo's shoulder.

"I really do," he said, and Bilbo smiled a bit then, returning the gesture with a "thank you." But as he turned to leave, the dwarf's question stopped him.

"What's that?"

Bilbo looked down at the sword strapped to his side, and lifted it out of its sheath.

It glowed an ethereal, electric blue.

Creaking and moaning could be heard above and below within the cave, and the running of sand became ominous.

"Wake up!" Thorin shouted coarsely. His voice echoed throughout the cave, startling most of the dwarves awake. "_Wake up!_"

Bilbo watched as thin lines appeared in the ground, and suddenly, the world was high above him.

* * *

Aneira had woken with a start, clutching her blanket in fright at Thorin's voice. She hastily put on her coat and boots, but just as she had strapped on her satchel and begun tying the laces on the second boot, the ground disappeared below her and she was falling into nothingness. She registered blurred colors flying by her eyes and the sound of her own screaming as she slid down something solid, but her wits were a jumbled mess by the time she realized she'd landed.

Blearily, Aneira opened her eyes. The world around her spun. Muddled sounds slowly became clearer as she tried with all her might to _focus_. But all at once she was being kicked and pulled and slapped and prodded by what felt like hundreds of little hands, hands that clawed at her face and hair and clothes and skin. She could hear the other dwarves shouting their objections, fighting their oppressors, whoever they were.

Suddenly, however, it stopped as she was pulled tighter into the crowd of dwarves, and she vaguely registered a hand clutching her left arm as she was pulled in that direction. When she looked up, she realized it was Kili pulling her, but Fili who enabled it by kicking away the few gangly creatures that had been harassing her.

They were ashen and deformed—their bodies small and mangled, hands gnarled with long, jagged and yellowed nails, which were sharp as razors. Their eyes were wide and owlish, their voices whining and grating on one's ears, and their breath foul with the stench of rotting flesh. She'd only heard the like in stories.

_Goblins_, she thought. _We've been attacked by goblins._

Could they not have a night's peace?

"Aneira, put up your hood," Fili whispered in her ear. And she complied, didn't question his logic as they were brought before an open hall. She realized upon viewing her surroundings that it was a dais. They were grouped in the center of a stone clearing. Before them was a large throne, and an even more massive goblin. Red boils and oozing sores covered his corpulent body, and two wide, bloodshot eyes peered at them from under a lavish crown of dried bones.

_So he is a king_, she recognized as the goblin rose from his throne, stepping on a pile of unfortunate goblins as he touched the ground.

Their weapons were thrown at the king's feet, and he regarded the dwarves with suspicion.

"Who would be so bold as to enter armed into my kingdom?" he asked. His voice drawled with a sinister and devious edge. She tried in vain to look away from his face; his goiter swung back and forth as he moved and talked, the sores catching on the thin grey threads of his hair. He pointed at them with an iron scepter, and she stared in both fear and disgust at the human-like skull attached at the end.

"Spies…thieves…_assassins?_"

"Dwarves, your Malevolence," said a lowly goblin, which stood in front of Kili and held onto his coat.

"_Dwarves?_" the king asked incredulously.

"We found them on the front porch," replied the goblin with a conniving smile.

"Well don't just stand there!" yelled the Goblin King. "_Search them!_ Every nook, every crevice!"

All at once Aneira could feel her face being slapped at and her ankles being kicked as more hands poked and prodded and searched inside her coat and in her pack. She managed to kick the one searching there away, but not before she received a long scratch across her cheek in the process. She cried out and punched out roughly as she panicked, and was only mildly satisfied when her hand connected with something solid. But she only was able to take a short breath of peace before a set of hands clamped down on her upper arms, and she began thrashing wildly in protest.

"Aneira, it's me!" yelled Bofur, and she relaxed a bit. Though her breaths were coming out shallowly, and she could feel her own heart speeding up with anxiety and fear.

"What are you doing in these parts?" asked the Goblin King.

The dwarves looked up at him silently, and Aneira inched her hood farther down to shield her face.

"_Speak!_" the goblin commanded. But he received no response from the obstinately staring dwarves.

"Very well, if they will not talk, we will make them _squawk!_" He turned to the thousands of his subjects around him in the depths of the cave, earning their encouraging cheers.

"Bring out the Wrangler, bring out the _Bone-crusher!_" he said, then pointed towards Ori in the middle. "Start with the youngest."

"_Wait,_" said Thorin. He left no time for any to lay a hand on the young dwarf, and stepped up to the front to meet the Goblin King.

"Well, well, well, look who it is?" the goblin mocked, and made as if to bow to the dwarf. "Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain…oh! But I'm forgetting…you don't _have_ a mountain."

Thorin remained silent as the goblin continued his mocking rant.

"And you're not a king, which makes you…nobody really," he said, and then peered down at Thorin with a rub of his wrinkled chin. "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head…just a head, mind you, nothing attached…perhaps you know of whom I speak."

Thorin looked up, trying in vain to conceal his shock and outrage at the implication of the goblin's words.

"An old enemy of yours—the Pale Orc, astride a white warg," the Goblin King finished. Thorin maintained his blank, icy expression.

"Azog the Defiler was destroyed in battle long ago," Thorin refuted.

"You think his defiling days are done, do you?" the goblin sneered. He chuckled darkly and turned to a goblin envoy.

"Send word to the Pale Orc…that I have found his _prize_," he commanded, and the messenger cackled gleefully before disappearing into the shadows of the goblin fortress.

"But in the meantime, let us have some fun, shall we?"

Thorin stared at him, silent fury under his gaze. But soon ominous drums sounded as the king's torture machines were brought forth, and the goblins began to laugh and jeer at the dwarves, singing songs meant to disparage them, but were surely merry to the goblins.

"_Goblins quaff, and Goblins beat_

_Goblins laugh, and Goblins bleat_

_Batter, jabber, whip, and taver hoo!"_

And batter and whip them they did. They brought out cutting whips that caught their arms, legs, and faces. Even Thorin was not unscathed, with a long cut across his neck and a bruise that would form on his arm from a goblin club.

"_The black crack! The back crack!_

_The black crack! The back crack!_

_Down to Goblin-town!_

_Down to Goblin-town!"_

Aneira had been shielded by Bofur and Dwalin's presence thus far, but she could not escape a punch landed to her jaw, along with a whip's lash above her brow. Blood gushed down and seeped over her eye, and she ducked down to avoid being more of a target. It stung painfully, but she dabbed at it with her hand and wiped her eyes. She looked up again when a goblin called out the name of Thorin's sword in what sounded like bone-chilling fear, fueling both the Goblin King's cries of outrage and the brutality of his subjects.

"_Kill them! Kill them all!_" she heard the Goblin King shriek, and a clawed hand found the sensitive skin of her neck before the world around them was engulfed in the brightest light she had ever witnessed. It seemed to warp reality as their attackers were blown away by an invisible force, and when the light died down, even the flames of the torches that had lit up the Town had dimmed. Out from the darkness of a nearby bridge walked Gandalf the Grey. His staff and sword were at hand, and slowly the dimmed torches rose back to life.

"Take up arms," he commanded steadily. "Fight…_FIGHT!_"

Aneira scrambled toward the pile of weapons on the floor, and after a few moments, she was able to successfully find her sword. She hadn't even realized she'd lost it until the goblin had thrown them at the king's feet, but without warning they were running through Goblin Town like a whirlwind—on bridges and over houses and through the goblins that tried to deter them. They pulled down ladders, knocked over pillars, cutting ropes loose and altogether creating mayhem as they went. Although when they came to a dead end of the bridge, Thorin cut the ropes loose that had been holding part of it together, and the company swayed in mid-air.

Some jumped to the other side on the first swing, while others were forced to wait. But on the return, several goblins were able to jump onto the makeshift "raft," but were cut down by Dwalin, Thorin, and Gloin. Aneira was petrified of the drop, but when she forced herself to make the dive, she landed painfully on the other side where the bridge continued. And when the others had done the same, they returned to sprinting through the mountain on goblin-made bridges. They only stopped when the path erupted at their feet, allowing the Goblin King to stand before them.

"You thought you could escape me?" he scorned and brought his staff down in front of him. But Gandalf was not intimidated in the slightest, and he stepped forward, Glamdring in hand.

"What are you going to do now, _wizard?_"

Gandalf brought his own staff forward and stabbed upward—into the goblin's eye. As the creature reared back, howling in pain, the wizard slashed across the Goblin King's massive stomach. The wooden bridge creaked under his weight as he fell to his knees with a grim satisfaction set in his eyes.

"Well, that'll do it."

Gandalf gave a look of disgust before aiming a cutting blow to the goblin's neck, effectively slaying him where he knelt. But the Goblin King's fallen weight was too much on the bridge, and the half upon which the dwarves stood collapsed. It fell with astonishing speed down in between the inner crevice of the mountain, only slowing when it reached the bottom and fell apart over the company.

Kili groaned in pain as a slab of wood fell over his head, and he shook it a bit to right his swirling vision.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," said Bofur above the noise of their grumbling.

His words were spoken too soon, as the Goblin King's enormous corpse fell on top of the pile mostly consisting of broken wood and dwarf.

"You've _got _to be _joking_," Dwalin griped, rubbing his aching head. But Kili stared upward and saw the swarm of angry goblins above, climbing down the crevice like roaches.

"Gandalf!" he warned. "There's more coming!"

"We cannot fight them all," said Dwalin, who was having trouble extricating himself from the rubble.

"There is only one thing that will save us," Gandalf said quickly. "We must make for daylight! Now!"

Aneira followed as they ran further into the mountains, through tunnels and other crevices until she could see light in the distance. Hope surged through her and her pace quickened that much faster, even if she was only running on the adrenaline rush of staying alive. But with Gandalf's encouragements as an impetus, she sprinted behind Nori into the open air and light of sunset. It was invigorating to breathe in the freshness of the trees, but she was grateful when they were finally able to stop for an actual breath. She heard the wizard counting off their company, ending with Bilbo.

"Bilbo?" she called. Where _was_ Bilbo? A sudden sense of dread filled her as she heard Gandalf's voice raise in anger, asking where their hobbit was.

"Curse that Halfling! Now he's lost?" said Dwalin irritably. "I thought he was with Dori!"

"Well don't blame me!" Dori protested.

"Well, where did you last see him?" asked Gandalf impatiently.

"I think I saw him slip away when they cornered us," offered Nori.

"Well what happened _exactly?_" Gandalf demanded. "_Tell me!_"

"I'll tell you what happened," said Thorin. He stepped up to Gandalf and spoke tersely. "_Master Baggins_ saw his chance and he took it. He's thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm house since he stepped out of his door. We will not be seeing our _hobbit_ again…he is long gone."

Kili looked to his brother in confusion. Surely Bilbo wouldn't do such a thing, after everything they had been through already? But Fili was just as at a loss as Kili, and as he glanced over at Aneira, he saw that she looked even more so. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears and she clutched her hands at her mouth.

Gandalf was incredulous, and he appeared uncertain of what course of action to take next. But a gentle voice startled them all.

"No, he isn't," said Bilbo.

He walked out from the woods with a smile.


	9. Brush Fire and Brimstone

**AN: Thank you to those who reviewed! All of them brightened my day. There isn't as much dialogue in this chapter, but I hope you enjoy all the same!**

* * *

_~Ere Break of Day~_

Chapter Nine – Brush Fire and Brimstone

Once Gandalf shook off his surprise, he smiled and stepped closer to the hobbit as the others stood motionless, most open-mouthed in shock.

"Bilbo Baggins…I have never been more glad to see anyone in my life," said Gandalf. Bilbo smiled and pat Balin on the shoulder as he drew nearer.

"Bilbo!" Kili said. A large grin was plastered to his face. "We'd given you up!"

"How did you get past the goblins?" Fili added, and also wore a grin.

"How indeed," Dwalin murmured from Thorin's side, still regarding the hobbit in disbelief. Bilbo chuckled a tad nervously. He seemed at a loss for words.

"Well, what does it matter?" Gandalf asked slowly. "He's back."

"No, it matters," Thorin insisted firmly, and stepped closer to the hobbit. "I need to know…why _did_ you come back?"

Bilbo viewed Thorin with a pensive look before aiming to give as honest a reply as his jumbled nerves would allow.

"I know you doubt me…and I know you always have. And you're right, I often think of Bad End," Bilbo said, soundly meeting Thorin's piercing gaze. "I miss my books, and my arm chair, and my garden…because that's where I belong; that's _home_."

Bilbo paused and chanced a glance at the rest of the dwarves. They watched him silently, though with rapt attention. He even caught sight of his neighbor, who offered him an encouraging smile. He returned it softly before continuing.

"And that's why I came back…because you don't have one—a home. It was _taken_ from you," Bilbo said bluntly. "But I will help you take it back…if I can, that is."

While Thorin and his kin appeared taken aback by the hobbit's words, Gandalf's smile was more pleased than any had seen as of late, and he chuckled warmly.

It was then that a warg's lone howl sounded in the distance, accompanied by shouts and curses that Aneira had learned to attribute to Orcs. She looked to the wizard in alarm, whose smile was wiped clean off of his face.

_Out of the frying pan and into the fire._

"_Ruuuun!_" he shouted, and Aneira followed suit with the rest of the company as they practically flew downhill—over boulders and winding about large pines, until the first wargs began to catch up with them. It was difficult to maneuver in the uneven terrain, especially as the sun continued to lower past the horizon, but the dwarves were having little trouble in dispatching the few wargs that were at their heels. Aneira herself hadn't had the time to draw her sword, but even if she had, she was afraid she wouldn't be of much help if one managed to corner her. Instead, she sprinted for all she was worth toward the end of the hill, where a collection of trees broke way to a cliff's edge.

"Up, into the trees!" said Gandalf, and Aneira complied, though it was difficult with the load upon her back. Nori, having had gone up before her in the same tree she was attempting to climb, reached down to give her a helping hand.

"Here, grab on!" he said, and hoisted her up some of the way. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the rest of the dwarves undertaking similar feats, though there were a few above her. She couldn't make out in the darkness that was befalling them who they were, but one she recognized as Dori, perched at a safe height. He cried out and pointed below, and Aneira made the mistake of glancing down.

The pale Orc—Azog the Defiler, astride a white warg, looked up at them with a mixture of contempt and scorn upon his scarred, gruesome face. His gaze sought out Thorin, and though he spoke in a language unintelligible to Aneira, the way he spoke the dwarf's name was uttered in such cold contempt that it made her shiver. She could not see Thorin to gauge his reaction, but she was sure he would be outraged, or at the very least, in shock to see his age-old enemy still haunting his steps.

Once the Pale Orc raised his sword high in the air with an unknown command, wargs ran down from the upraised ground on which he stood proudly.

"Look out!" She heard the voice from above, which sounded like Dori, but could possibly have been Nori. She didn't dwell on it long.

Two wargs were growling and snapping below her feet, saliva dripping from their frothing mouths at the prospect of an evening meal. She screamed and in her panic and hastily grabbed at the branches above to climb higher. But seeing as they could not reach their prey, the wargs pressed and scratched against the side of the trees, and used their combined weights to apply pressure in the direction of the cliff. Aneira started as the tree began to creak.

She knew the sound of breaking wood.

"Jump, lass!" shouted Dori from above, and as the tree began to topple over she did her best to reach, and clamp onto the nearest branch as they fell into the tree beside them. Attempting to balance herself, she planted her feet onto the limb below her, but the wood beneath was thin and hollow, and broke under her weight and the force gravity placed upon her.

She screamed for the second time as her feet hung in midair.

"Aneira!"

The girl looked up to see Fili and Kili three large branches above her, and as Fili directed her to swing her legs upward onto the limb two feet in front of her, Kili was making his way down carefully toward her.

"Swing up!" said Fili. Her limbs were exhausted from both lack of rest and the strain of holding her own weight. Her injuries protested with every sharp inhale of breath and shift of her arms or legs, and already she could feel her energy waning. Fear was taking root in her mind—a fear of falling to her death if she attempted such a thing, or if she didn't move at all.

"I-I can't!" said Aneira tremulously. As she was about to glance down over her shoulder, Kili's voice startled her.

"_Don't_ look down! Just swing and grab hold of the tree!"

"Are you _insane?_ I'm going to fall!" Aneira shrieked, and held on even tighter. Kili positioned himself almost directly in front of her on the opposite branch, under his brother by a foot. It was really a short distance, but in Aneira's eyes, it was much farther than she thought her legs could reach.

"_Just do it!_" he yelled, coming to his wits end. He knew they didn't have much time before this tree also fell, and it would be a long way down if she let go now. "I'm _right here!_"

Finally, she held her breath, and despite her better judgment, she pushed off from the trunk and swung upward, catching the branch above with one of her legs.

"Now the other one!" said Fili, who was monitoring the situation below. They would have to jump soon. She hooks her other leg around the limb, and uttered a quick, silent prayer before letting go of one hand. But the tree began to shudder and quake, making her lose her balance. Her other hand was dislodged from the tree, and she screamed as she pitched backwards, only holding on by her knees locked around the tree limb.

"Give me your hand!" Kili demanded, and he reached down as far as he dared. Aneira blindly stretched upward and finally came in contact with Kili's hand. He pulled her up and dragged her to her feet just as the entire tree began to fall, and all three jumped onto the next one. Aneira scrambled up until she was able to sit on a thick branch, her arms finding the trunk and clutching it for all her life was worth. She looked up and realized it was the last tree standing, and just to their left was the edge of the cliff, and after that, open air to an abyss below. Dwarves were screaming and calling out to one another, especially as this tree at last began to creak and crackle under all their weight.

But she saw something fiery thrown down from above. When she looked up, she saw that Gandalf was cleverly igniting pine cones with his magic and sending them raining down upon the wargs. He threw them down to her and the dwarves, and together they were able to force the creatures to retreat. They fled as flames caught their feet and muzzles and began to burn in a brush fire on the grassy knoll. The orcs cried out in frustration, but their indignation soon turned to mocking laughter as the dwarves' tree groaned and began to careen sideways.

Ori very nearly fell into empty air below, but was momentarily saved as he grabbed onto Dori's booted leg. But Dori, unable to support both of their weight with just his arms as support, slipped from the branch. Gandalf's outstretched staff was all that could save them in the nick of time, but they still struggled to hold on tight.

Aneira did not pay attention to this scene, however, for she was watching Thorin near the base of the tree.

He himself watched the Pale Orc with barely restrained fury, not for only the crimes he'd committed against Thorin, but also now against his kin. He slowly rose from his position and started forward into the flame-drawn path.

_He is either very brave or very stupid_, thought Aneira. _I cannot tell which._

They met in the center of the clearing and commenced into a one-on-one battle, the second round of one that had been started decades ago; not even the Orcs under Azog's command were allowed to interfere. However, the battle was quickly falling into the Orc's favor, as he slammed his axe into Thorin's armor covered chest. The dwarf was caught off guard and fell hard to the ground, and even as far as she was, she could see him struggling for the breath that had surely been knocked out of him. But the warg did not wait for him to recover, and instead clamped its jaws around his middle. The more Thorin cried out in agony, the harder the creature seemed to bite down in attempt to get through the dwarvish armor and chainmail. Eventually, it gave up on its game and, with a sharp jerk of its neck, sent Thorin several yards through the air onto hard stone.

She could hear the outcries of some of the dwarves, namely Balin, Dwalin, and Fili and Kili. Aneira herself felt an intense urge to help him, but she knew it would take her an age to disentangle herself from this tree. And even if she managed it, how would she ever help him?

_That is coward's talk_, she thought. _Get up and help!_

But she found that she could not; her body simply would not let her.

_Have I come here to sit and watch as those around me are slain? _Aneira thought with a somber shake of her head. _Thorin was right. How is it that I could look his nephew in the eye and say that I am truly a dwarf?_

His nephews fought to climb down, but as she looked ahead, she was shocked at the sight of their humble hobbit.

He ran towards the fallen dwarf. It was all he could think to do as the world seemed to be crumbling into ruin around them, and if to spare the leader just a little longer, why should Bilbo not do his part as he promised he would? He was not deterred as he saw an Orc raising its filth-encrusted blade poised above Thorin's neck, but without a proper plan, he sprinted headlong into it. They rolled to the ground, each fumbling for their respective weapons, but Bilbo was quicker and stabbed into the Orc's chest before it could attack. He stabbed the creature repeatedly until it met its demise and quickly scrambled to his feet to run in front of Thorin, sword shakily outstretched.

Whether he shook from his nerves, adrenaline, or fear, he did not know. But the Pale Orc sneered at the hobbit in contempt before directing an order to his subordinates. The wargs they rode growled and bared their teeth as they began to approach. Bilbo waved his sword in front of him in attempt to hold them off. He knew he was about to die, but at least he had done something of consequence doing it.

He was prepared for the lethal blow that never came.

Dwalin, Fili, and Kili ran onto the scene with their weapons raised and a battle cry upon their lips as they drew the enemy off of him. Swept in their valor and spirit, he joined the fray and managed to kill a warg and its rider before he was met by Azog the Defiler, whom he had so taken the joy of completely defeating his foe. Bilbo fearfully stepped backward until he tripped and fell onto his back, and in the light of the flames, he saw the Orc's mouth curl into a sinister smile.

But then there was a great cry from above—an eagle's cry, as talons came down and plucked wargs and orcs alike from the ground and dropped them into the abyss. The Pale Orc shouted out orders, enraged, but looked on helplessly (much like Bilbo) as a swarm of eagles created chaos. Just as he would have raised his sword to one of them, eagles fanned the flames of the brush fire upon him, forcing him to retreat from the smoldering heat.

Aneira could see what was happening, but she was having a difficult time believing. Grand, beautiful eagles, with wingspans greater that heights of entire Men, were fighting for them. They bent trees from their roots and felled them on the Orcs below, dropped them into nothingness, and forced the rest to retreat, while the dwarves were being carried off, one by one, into the clouds.

Of this she was filled with dread as she herself was carried off, wondering what exactly they would do to her once they were high enough in the air. But the eagle was surprisingly gentle as it grasped her in its talons, even if it dropped her onto the back of another (in which she screamed terribly, but didn't make too much a fool of herself).

"_Do be quiet, you scream into my sensitive ears_," said the eagle, though it took Aneira a moment to realize that it was the eagle that had spoken.

"Y-You…you…_y-you talk!_" she said shrilly (and ever so eloquently).

"_The screaming, did I not just tell you of the screaming?_" The voice was both indignant and peeved, most likely due to Aneira's ignorance and lack of tact. "_Perhaps I should drop you here._"

"_No!_ I-I mean, no, please, I beg of you…" She clutched the eagle's feathers then, in case it decided to try and dislodge her, but to her confusion the eagle chuckled.

"_I shan't drop you, stop your pinching._"

Aneira released immediately, but still kept a tentative hold.

"_Why the King deigns to step into the affairs of dwarves I will never understand, but here we are._"

"What king?" asked Aneira.

"_The Lord of the Eagles,_" said the eagle, though his tone could be considered patronizing. "_We have agreed to take time away from our busy flight patterns to land you over the mountains._"

"Well…thank you, for saving us," she said, and glanced over at the dwarves. Some called out to Thorin in attempt to wake him, while others clung to the eagles in fear of falling off. But it would be another few hours, when morning broke once again, that they landed upon a tall precipice that overlooked the green plains below. Gandalf called it a Carrock.

Thorin was laid on the floor of stone, and as soon as Gandalf was able, he slid from the eagle's back and ran to Thorin's side.

"Thorin," Gandalf called, but the dwarf remained unconscious. His face was bloodied and battered, and he most likely sustained bruised ribs, if not cracked or broken. But as Gandalf raised his hand over Thorin's face and slowly over his chest, he muttered an ancient language the dwarves had no knowledge of. Then the dwarf's eyes slid open, and he drew large intakes of breath.

"The Halfling?" Thorin whispered coarsely.

"He's all right," said Gandalf with a knowing smile. "Bilbo is here, and is safe."

Gandalf allowed another small smile of satisfaction to grace his features as he rose, and Dwalin and Kili helped Thorin rise to his feet as well. The dwarf stared icily into what had been Bilbo's relieved gaze, but with the intensity of his coldness, Bilbo's smile quickly melted.

"_You_, what were you doing? You could have gotten yourself _killed!_" Thorin said tersely. Bilbo stared back in surprise, not expecting such a reaction.

"Did I not say you would be a burden?" Thorin asked as he drew closer to the hobbit. "That you would not survive in the wild? That you had _no_ place amongst us?"

Bilbo tried his hardest not to meet the dwarf's gaze in his shame and dejection. It appeared that nothing he did would be of worth in this stubborn dwarf's eyes.

_Perhaps I really don't belong here after all_, he thought.

But there was something he did not expect.

"…I have never been so wrong in all of my life," said Thorin, and despite Bilbo's shock, he embraced the hobbit warmly, and with such gentleness that also took Bilbo by surprise. There were cheers from the dwarves, and from Aneira, who watched her neighbor slowly return Thorin's gesture, although a bit awkwardly.

"I am sorry I doubted you," Thorin said with a genuine smile (a feat in and of itself) as he pulled away.

"N-No, I would have doubted me too," Bilbo said honestly. "I'm not a hero, or a warrior…"

He chanced a look at Gandalf, and added, "not even a burglar," to which Gandalf chuckled softly.

The wide smile that was on Aneira's face began to ache in her jaw as she watched the display, and she couldn't have been happier for Bilbo.

He was finally being accepted as he deserved, if she could see from the faces of the other dwarves. If she was completely honest with herself, she would admit there was a prick of jealousy in that regard, to know that he would no longer be condescended and degraded for who he was (or at least not nearly as often as before), while she still had margin to prove herself. Proving herself would be the only way of surviving within this company.

_But why do I want to be? _she asked herself. _What is it about these dwarves that I can simply not let go of?_

"_I understand you."_

Her eyes widened.

Kili had said the words, but at the time she didn't realize their importance, how much she _wanted_ to be accepted, even if it hadn't been her goal when she first joined them.

"_So your father had mostly dwarven blood, which means you do as well. That's why you're so keen on helping us," said Kili, understanding donning and lighting his eyes. "You truly share our heritage…you are a dwarf."_

And so she was. Perhaps not a good one, nor a worthy one—not yet. But she would no longer do as she had done this day, and hide within the relative safety of the sidelines while those with more to lose ventured on. This day, under the presence of the dawn, Bilbo, Gandalf, and the dwarves before her, she swore to herself that she would find something within her worth her lineage, and she would prove it to every dwarf within this company before she returned home.

It was a solemn oath for a solemn time, even with Thorin's revelation. And as they made their way down the side of the precipice, Aneira was revitalized with this new purpose. It was added to the first purpose her mother had helped carve out for her before taking up the courage to follow Bilbo and the dwarves: one she had _not_ shared with the company.

And she prayed they would never find out.

* * *

**On an off note, I chose not to have them land in the eagles' aeries for the sake of timing with Thorin's injuries, but instead the Carrock Gandalf mentions in the book. But I hope you enjoyed the chapter! There will be more to come, hopefully quicker this time. ;) As per usual, please feel free to leave a review!**


	10. The Bear's Den

**AN: Well, just for a heads-up this is going to be a shorter chapter, but there will be another coming up in a couple of days (not a whole week I promise!). I'm realizing that more and more people prefer getting shorter updates every few days than waiting a longer period of time for a long chapter. If that's you, (or not) please tell me! I'll consider doing this more often.**

* * *

_~Ere Break of Day~_

Chapter Ten – The Bear's Den

Why was it that he always got stuck with the worst jobs? Bilbo wanted to know.

He let out the breath he'd been holding after creeping back under the relative safety of the boulder. Not only was the orc pack still on their trail and gaining fast across the mountainside, but there was a large animal that was akin to a bear, but larger than even a warg. It was chasing the orcs and making a beeline for the forest ahead.

Bilbo returned to where the company waited at the base of the Carrock. Thorin was the first to spot him and stood straighter at the sight of the hobbit's alarm.

"Did they see you? Are they coming?" he asked quickly. The others stood up as well and looked at their burglar in anticipation of a chase soon to begin.

"No. No, they didn't, but—" said Bilbo, and they rest heaved sighs of relief. Thorin himself allowed a smile to grace his features as he shared a glance with the wizard.

"I knew it. None can best our hobbit," he said, to the agreement of the others.

"But wait—" Bilbo's plea was drowned out by Thorin's instruction of having a small rest before continuing their journey.

"Listen!" Bilbo exclaimed, surprising everyone into silence.

"There was something else there, on the mountain…" How could he put it? "It was a large creature—"

"Was it, by any chance," Gandalf cut in, his knowing eyes meeting the hobbit's, "a bear?"

"Well, yes, actually," said Bilbo, perturbed. "How did you know?"

"I thought as much…there is a house close by where we will find shelter, but we must leave now, and move quickly," he said, and instructed the dwarves to pick up what belongings they had. Thorin further directed the company by leading them down the grassy plains, picking up pace until they were racing through the forest. Kili had protested at such a pace until the howls of wargs and the battle cries of orcs could be heard not too far off.

This drove Aneira to keep running, though her body was beyond exhaustion as she stumbled over raised roots and was quickly falling behind. She could hear her heart pounding in her head while her bangs became plastered to her forehead and the sides of her face with sweat. When she tripped over a dip in the ground, Bofur yanked her up by her elbow and kept a firm hold on her upper arm, practically dragging her through the brush. After a while, the trees and branches were beginning to blur, and her chest was clenched so tightly with the lack of air flowing to her lungs that she thought her body would seize. Vaguely she heard growling and snarling behind them, which made the grip on her arm tighten and become more forceful.

Then there was a large tree just over a slope of green grass. Within it was the cabin, she was sure. It was peculiar, as the house was not separated from the tree, but nor was it a treehouse in the traditional sense. More of that the great elm was a part of the wooden logs and rope and mortar that made up the house, and the house part of it.

They were coming upon it at a sprinting pace. Its great door was partially open, to their luck as heavy galloping steps were not far behind them with the sound of a beast's roar, far larger and far more menacing than that of a warg in Aneira's opinion. She turned her head over her shoulder and caught a good look of what was behind them.

A bear far larger than any she had ever seen—its eyes wide and its jowls snarling with saliva and a full mouth of glistening teeth—pounded after them and kicked up grass and dirt in its wake.

For the first time since the eagles left them and the company began their tiring race, she became aware of herself and her immediate danger. With a jolt than ran up her spine and jumpstarted her brain, she used every iota of energy left within her to propel herself forward with the rest of the dwarves through the door and into the cabin.

Unfortunately, she stumbled over the wooden floorboards and landed into a pile of hay, falling in a heap of limbs she could no longer feel. Aneira watched as the dwarves held the door shut and yelled and shouted at one another while they met the creature's resistance from the other side. Eventually they managed to set a plank over the door, effectively locking it, and one by one they dropped into the hay just as overly spent as she was. Her breaths were coming out in labored gasps, but it was becoming easier to breathe when she simply concentrated on easing air into her stinging lungs.

She managed to turn her head when her name was uttered, and she met Kili's tired brown eyes.

"We made it," he said, panting while he lay on his side. She smiled even as her eyes closed.

* * *

Aneira woke to rays of golden light hitting her square in the eyes.

"Ughh…" She immediately closed them.

"My sentiments exactly."

A sigh escaped her, but she refused to open her eyes again.

"I suppose it's morning," she said, and rolled over away from what could only be an open window. She begrudgingly opened her eyes and found Bofur, looking a little unkempt, but far less dirty than she felt, and much more awake as he sat leaning against a wooden beam. She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, ran a hand through her wild hair and tried in vain to shake the strands of hay out of it.

For the first time, she really took in her surroundings.

It seemed to be a stable of sorts, with horses and cattle happily eating and drinking water from their respective troughs. The floor was covered in dirt and hay, but this stopped a little ways ahead where the wooden floor was spotless further into the house.

"It is," said Bofur. He leaned off the beam to stand. "You are the last one to wake. Our host has just finished preparing breakfast for us."

"Thank you, by the way. If it hadn't been for you," she said, and looked down, avoiding his gaze. "I would be…well, I wouldn't be here."

In hindsight, Bofur was consistent in making sure she kept up with the group, even dragging her the rest of the way if necessary. She was grateful to him, though sorry that she probably could have gotten him killed for having to help her.

Booted steps came nearer, but Aneira didn't look up until she felt a hand tousle the hair on her head—a gesture meant to be comforting when she saw the fond look in his smiling eyes that crinkled in the corners.

It reminded her so much of her father that she could only gaze up with wide eyes, slightly breathless.

"_It's all right now, little one. I'll only be gone for a few days at most," Anian soothed, wiping the tears from his daughter's small face. Still, she sniffled and looked up at him with miserable eyes. He gave her a comforting smile and sat her upon his lap where he sat on the ground. _

"_I was planning on giving you this for your birthday, but I think you'll like it just as much now."_

_Out of his coat pocket, he pulled out a leather parcel tied with string. He offered it to her, and hesitantly she took it out of his waiting hands. She untied the frayed strands and carefully pulled out a necklace of silver, shining in the morning light that filtered through a window. The pearls were clear and beautiful, and they captured her awe-stricken expression._

"_I made this for you when you were born, so that you will remember," he said. With eyes still glistening, she looked up at her father's tender gaze._

"_Remember what?" she asked in a small voice._

"_That as precious as silver and pearls are, my Aneira, you are more," He gently took the gift from her and placed it over her head to rest around her neck. He tapped at the carved symbol that lay upon her chest. "And this, to remember _who_ you are."_

_Anian did not further explain his words, but he stood, easing Aneira to the ground to stand by herself. Before walking out the door, he paused to briefly touch her cheek, then kiss the top of her head before ruffling her hair affectionately. When he smiled, it spread to his eyes that wrinkled in the corners; lines that were permanently etched into a face that had creased often, whether from sadness or joy. _

"_I won't be long."_

"Never mind that, lassie. Can't have you coming back to your mum in pieces, can we?" he said, making her smile at last.

He offered her a hand to help her stand, which she took gratefully and asked, "and who is our humble host?"

* * *

"Now that everyone has been properly introduced to you, Beorn, it is far overdue that we give our thanks for housing us," said Gandalf.

The man inclined his head, but from what Aneira observed, he was no man. This was a beast.

His eyes were of no man she had ever met, large and piercing and that of an animal—taking in everything at once yet focused on the smallest detail. His dark hair was wilder than hers, falling over his shoulders so thick that she didn't know where his beard ended or began. It was more like fur than hair. Even his teeth appeared as sharp as his stare, while his nails were more akin to claws.

Beorn was also tall. And not just compared to her diminutive stature. He surpassed Gandalf's height by at least half a foot.

"Your…story interests me," he replied. His voice was a slow rumble, the rustle of trees when shaken by the wind, but also so deep it could have penetrated the floorboards (or at least in Aneira's imagination).

For once, the dwarves ate quietly, but mostly happily after a little more than half a night's rest. Thorin and Gandalf and Balin talked with Beorn while the rest of the company talked amongst themselves. Aneira pushed the remains of her meal around her plate while she traded words with Bilbo.

"I wonder how long we will be staying this time," she said softly, not wanting their…host, to hear.

"Preferably not long…there are _bees_ in here, Aneira. Have you seen them?" Bilbo asked. As he spoke his eyes drifted away from her face at the thought, up above him and to the side with his fork poised in his hand. "If one was to sting me, I should swell up as big as this house."

Aneira restrained a laugh at his melodrama.

"Will you spear them to death?" she joked. Bilbo smiled good-naturedly, though he gave the large man at the far end of the table a cursory glance.

"Not while he's watching," he mumbled. And when she raised a brow in question, "You were asleep when Gandalf explained a few things."

* * *

"So, who and where is the master of this house you mentioned, Gandalf?" asked Thorin, once the dwarves were situated within the great house. It was spacious and obviously built for someone large, and someone quite at home with nature.

"He can be appalling when he is angry, though he is kind enough…if humored," began the wizard with a small, slightly nervous chuckle. "His name is Beorn. He is a skin-changer, known to protect these parts of the forest in the form you recently saw him in. No doubt that is why he chased us, but we have nothing to fear. He will return in the morning, I believe."

_A skin-changer? _That could not be right, Bilbo thought to himself. He had read something of them before, he believed, that Beorn's kind (if he in fact was a skin-changer) were thought to have descended from the great and ancient bears of the mountains that lived there before the creatures that now inhabit it—giants and goblins and orcs.

"Are you sure he isn't under some sort of enchantment?" Dwalin said, a suspicion read clearly in his expression. A _curse_ was more what he meant. Gandalf turned a critical eye upon the dwarf.

"He is under no enchantment but his own," Gandalf said sternly. Bilbo couldn't help but be the least bit disconcerted. This man sounded in no way safe or to be trusted, yet Gandalf was ready to wait all night in this house that smelled of horse and dirt and their already less than pleasant grime from the past few days of nonstop peril.

The hobbit sighed and resigned himself to a spot in the hay not far from Aneira and the two young heirs of Durin. While Aneira was lost to slumber already, Fili and Kili talked quietly with one another over something even Bilbo's perceptive ears could not hear. Sleep was warm and welcoming and fast to overtake him.

* * *

"Well," said Aneira. "That makes sense, I suppose."

"Were you expecting something else?" he asked. From her expression, she seemed reserved on her judgment of their host, but there was wariness in her gaze that he didn't miss.

"No, it's not that…it really does make sense, it's just…he was a _creature_. Even as a man, he still appears as one," she said. "Can we really trust him?"

It took him a moment to answer, but after taking another bite of a buttered roll he glanced over at Gandalf.

"We'll just have to rely on his judgment," said Bilbo. "He hasn't been wrong before now."

The image of razor-like teeth snarling down upon her came to mind, but she pushed the thought away with a shiver.

"Perhaps."


	11. The Bear's Eyes

**AN: Some heavy dialogue in this chapter, but some background you may appreciate, as well as other things I think you'll enjoy! As always, I love feedback, comments, concerns, ideas, etc. Don't be afraid to voice them. ;)**

* * *

_~Ere Break of Day~_

Chapter Eleven – The Bear's Eyes

On normal terms, Thorin trusted no one but his kin. To enter the home of this…skin-changer, as Gandalf had put it, was as clear of an alarm as any for his skepticism and wariness to be evident. But they were tired, and they were hungry, and their need for shelter from what hunted them so obstinately forced his hand to at least trust the wizard. They had not the time, nor the energy, of searching for shelter elsewhere.

He spoke with Beorn little, letting Gandalf and Balin converse with the man while he tried in vain to read him. And if he should be more wary of him. The master of the house spoke little, only with a question here or there to have Gandalf explicate an aspect of their story, and why they were currently eating at his dining table. Thorin's gaze shifted to the end of it when the last member of their company joined them mere minutes later, mused from sleep but looking more aware of her surroundings.

Even now, he wasn't sure what to make of the girl. She was tenacious, he would give her that. Young and foolish, but any doubts he had about the truth of her heritage were reluctantly put to rest.

"_And what else did she happen to tell you so conveniently?" asked Thorin. Kili gave him an annoyed look. _

"_That you saved her mother's life."_

_Thorin was silent in his surprise, allowing Kili to continue._

"_It was three weeks into the journey to the Blue Mountains, while you were leading the survivors from both Smaug's attack and the battle of reclaiming Moria. While crossing Minhiriath, there was a deluge in the night where we made camp. I don't remember it because I was newly born, but I've heard Dwalin speak of it."_

"_I remember it," Thorin said quietly._

"_Then you will know what happened next," said Kili, knowingly. Thorin raised a brow, but gestured for Kili to begin again._

"_Well, the heavy rain caused a mudslide that had five dwarves and two women of Dale fighting for their lives. They clung to tree branches about halfway down the slope. The end of the slide was a long way down, and ran into the river Baranduin, where the current would take them if they were to fall. But you, Dwalin, and a few other you called to help went to them and carefully fished them out with cleverly tied ropes, pulling them to safety. _

_The last one you reached out to was a young woman named Serén, daughter of Seirian, who never had the chance to thank you personally. But you charged a dwarf from your rescue party with helping her relocate her family."_

_Here Kili paused and regarded Thorin for a moment, trying to gauge his reaction for any semblance of recognition. Thorin hid it from his nephew well, but he remembered the recount, even if he didn't remember the dwarf or the girl with particular detail. It was night, they were operating under a downpour, and it had been a severely stressful situation. _

_His nephew spoke once more._

"_That man was Aneira's father, the woman her mother. It was how they met."_

* * *

Aneira wandered the house. It was so large, she was sure she could get lost in it, but she didn't dare venture upstairs. That was surely where Beorn slept, and she wouldn't be so rude. She tried her best to avoid the master of the house. With all her being she evaded even talking to him at the risk he noticed her (hopefully subtle) attempts at staying as far away from him as possible. She cleaned herself off on his porch with a bucket of water and soap as best as she could while fully clothed and sorted through her knotted strands of hair, but she barely looked him in the eyes when he handed her a cloth to dry off. Immediately after she found Bilbo and some of the other dwarves to immerse herself in a few card games.

There were bees, she found, as soon as she turned the corner from the dining room into what seemed to be a living area to relax before the hearth. She attempted to hide behind shelves when they buzzed nearer to her. When one came particularly close, she took one of the books off of a shelf and brandished it while also using it as a shield.

"It will not hurt you," the slow rumble of a voice came behind her, startling her greatly. Beorn moved around her to hold out his finger. He let the bee land gently onto it and crawl through his fingers for a moment before it took off once more.

"I care for a hive of bees that share their honey with me," he explained. She could only look up at him with wide eyes for a moment.

"Y-You care for many animals, sir," she said a bit tremulously. He slightly raised a brow while looking down at her.

"Yes. They have interesting things to say."

"How much do bees have to discuss?" she couldn't help but ask. Once the words came out of her mouth, however, she held her breath in fear of what he would do. She had _no_ intention of offending their host with whatsoever.

To her surprise, he only chuckled. The sound was throaty and seemed to reverberate off the walls.

"You would be surprised," he replied. Aneira fidgeted under his steady gaze and avoided it by staring down at the ground. She only looked up when she heard rustling movement and the creaking protest of the floorboards. Beorn had squat down before her with his eyes still piercing into her.

"I will not harm you either, little one," he said. With his muscles bunched and taut as a predator poised for pouncing on its prey, somehow she wasn't so much assured. Her more logical brain was screaming at her to run, and run far away from this being whose animalistic form could be readily seen in his eyes.

"Forgive me…if-if I offended you," she stammered and stepped back quickly. Her back hit the shelf, however, making her gasp in surprise. When something landed on her shoulder, she quickly turned her head and let out a short scream.

A gray mouse peered at her with large, black eyes and began sniffing her cheek.

"What is wrong?" asked Gandalf from the entryway of the room, where many of the dwarves came quickly at Aneira's cry of distress.

"M-M-_Mouse!_" Her limbs were paralyzed with shock, but Beorn took advantage of this and scooped the creature off of her shoulder before she did anything rash, like her brain had been telling her to do from the beginning and shake off the offending vermin.

Some of the dwarves chuckled along with Gandalf and turned back to what they had been doing before, while Bilbo came up to the shaking girl and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Are you all right?" he asked. She could only nod and hasten out of the room, ducking out of the view of sharp eyes.

* * *

That night after supper Aneira did well to elude the heavy talk at the table between Thorin, Gandalf, and most of the other dwarves (besides Fili and Kili, who couldn't be bothered to sit through what they deemed as dull conversation, and Ori, who preferred to sketch in his journal, and Bilbo, who sat happily with his pipe). The discussion was heated, however, with the subject of what routes to take next and how to get there and avoid the orcs still hunting their trail.

Instead, she admired Beorn's horses. Patting each on the nose as she walked by, she could see each was contented as they flicked their tails at her and one playfully shoved at her hand, making her giggle and smooth a hand over its side affectionately. She enjoyed animals, but she drew the line at insects and vermin.

There was a large window beside the set of stalls, at the far wall, open with the curtain drawn back. Although, it was much too high for her to peek through if she wanted a glimpse of undisturbed skylight and nature. She eyed a wooden bucket that lay against the wall for water. It wasn't filled.

"Perfect," she murmured to herself, and grabbed the bucket and dragged it underneath the window. Pressing down on it with two hands, she nodded in satisfaction that it was sturdy enough, and she climbed up, holding onto the sill for support. It was a rather large bucket, more of a basin, really—wide even on the bottom and with more than ample room for her to stand comfortably with her legs apart.

A small gasp escaped her when she finally looked up into the sky.

"It steals the breath from you."

The voice startled her enough that she had to grab the windowsill in earnest as her feet stumbled on the bucket.

"Whoa, steady there," said the voice, accompanied by calloused hands that gripped her knees and part of her thighs firmly. Aneira looked down into familiar dark eyes with both resigned exasperation and amusement.

"Kili, why are you always sneaking up on me?" she asked, attempting to appear stern. "You nearly made me fall!"

His grin was cheeky, and his hands remained in place while she corrected her footing.

"Afraid I won't catch you?" he teased. Aneira blushed and raised a brow, thinking, _Rather bold dwarf, is he not?_

She chanced a little boldness on her part.

"Like you did the first time?"

"Well, now that was different," he pointed out with a grin. He slowly let go of her to raise a forefinger. "That was all your fault."

Aneira scoffed.

"I resent that." Kili rolled his eyes and gestured for her to move over on the bucket. She complied and allowed him to get on, though she noted things were now much more snug.

"Where is Fili?" Kili waved a dismissing hand.

"He and Nori are arguing over where to hide knives on one's person and which ones are the best."

"There are different kinds of knives?" she asked.

"Well, different shapes of the blade, certainly," he said. She nodded in understanding, but then looked down when she heard subtle creaking.

"What if this breaks?" she asked worriedly. The wood was bending slightly under their combined weight, though it wasn't uncomfortable standing shoulder to shoulder at the wide expanse of the windowsill.

"We'll be fine," he assured. Somehow she wasn't so persuaded, but she sighed and turned her gaze upward at the splendid sight. Hundreds of starts dotted the sky in brilliant white and pale gold, reminiscent of the lights in Rivendell.

_Those were of magic though. These…these are far more real_, she thought with a contented sigh.

* * *

"Yes, but this one doesn't have the same edge. It makes horizontal slices neater, more efficient."

"All right, Nori, I see what you mean there…"

Fili paused with his discussion with Nori to make a cursory glance at his brother, but frowned when Kili wasn't next to him. He could see Thorin at the table with Gandalf, a customary dark look on his features. Fili turned his head more to see where Kili had gone, only frowning deeper when he saw his brother.

_Well, knives have never bored him before_, Fili thought wryly. He could hazard a guess as to why Thorin was casting periodic frowns in Kili's direction.

_Somehow, I don't think this will end well…_

* * *

Never had Kili seen eyes so bright and full of wonder, so enthralled with a scene as simple as the sky. He didn't realize he was smiling softly until she pointed to a cluster distantly pulsing with life.

"Wow…I've never seen so many stars," she said. "I lived in the country, for pity's sake, you'd think I would have the time to sit for a moment and…and see this."

She looked down at her hands for a moment. The look of embarrassment as she bit her lip confused him, then she chanced a cursory glance over at him.

"You must think I'm childish," she said. His brow rose of its own accord.

"Have I given you that impression?"

"No," she conceded, "but…"

In light of her hesitation, Kili crossed his arms as he leant on the sill and said, "When I was a child, we always stayed in the mountain. I'd heard of them in songs and old folk tales, but I didn't really see stars until my brother and I were old enough to accompany Thorin into town for errands, supplies, things like that."

His hand gestured outward towards the sky.

"On our way home it would be dark, and we could finally see them. Hundreds, thousands, probably more. They lit our path as we entered the mountain."

After a short while of silent contemplation, Aneira spoke softly, "They seem brighter in these wilder parts than in the Shire."

"That's only because this is the first time you are really _seeing_ them," he replied. She hummed an agreement, and Kili noticed out of the corner of his eye that her hand fiddled with her silver chain.

"That is a necklace of fine craftsmanship," he commented. He could see it took her a moment to realize what he was speaking of, but her eyes lit up when she looked down at the pearls and carved pendant.

"He gave it to me before he was to leave for a week's travel to Sarn Ford, on the river Baranduin. Even if he was gone, not all of him would truly leave me as long as I had it," she said, a smile coming to her lips. "My mum was annoyed with him when she found out he gave me my birthday gift two weeks early."

He smiled at her, and she returned it before letting out a small sigh.

"He died before I realized its true significance. The 'H,' or as you corrected, the 'E,' pressed within two triangles, one larger than the other, impressed in silver, supposedly is the symbol of my father's household."

Kili nodded in understanding and asked, "Did he craft things like this often?"

"Funnily enough, no," she said with a playful smile. "He was a bit like Ori, you could say. Kept to himself, read his books. He sketched a lot in journals, painted in his free time. He would sit by the riverbank or at the top of a green hill and replicated whatever he saw…some were very beautiful."

"Do you share his talent?" Kili asked. Aneira propped her elbow on the windowsill and glanced over at the dwarf with a half-smile.

"No, that's my brother. He has a keen eye, and all my father's old utensils and paints. I was always jealous," she admitted. Kili glanced back up at the sky for a moment, watching as clouds moved silently past.

"My mother always said I inherited my father's skill with a fiddle," Kili remarked arbitrarily. "She said whenever he played, the entire room would shift with the slightest deviations to the mood he created on a whim. She even gave me his old fiddle. Still in pristine condition, if a little frayed from age."

"Really?" she asked in interest. He glanced over at her and smiled in amusement at her excitement.

"Though I suppose I wouldn't know for sure," he allowed, "Since I never met him."

She bit her lip then, and it made him wish he hadn't added the last bit. No matter what, it seemed he managed to make her uncomfortable.

"Well, I was named partially for an uncle and partially for a grandmother I never met."

Kili raised a brow.

"How is that?" he asked.

* * *

Aneira proceeded to tell him of the family Anian had left behind in the Blue Mountains. Her grandmother Eira and her uncle, Neirin, who almost always bickered with one another no matter what time of day or occasion, to the exasperation of Neirin's younger siblings Arrin and Anian. To everyone else, Neirin was generous, amicable, and well-respected amongst those they knew, and his reputation proceeded him even to those they didn't know. They were craftsmen and women by nature, though Anhun, the siblings' father, descended from an extensive line of miners. It took a substantial amount of time, but the family eventually found a kind of stability.

"Though my uncle never lived to see the Blue Mountains," Aneira admitted quietly.

"Was he slain by the dragon?" Kili asked. Aneira shook her head.

"When King Thrór mounted his siege to reclaim Moria, he died a warrior's death…protecting my father from an arrow that should have been his. In turn, my aunt's husband was killed in their attempt to avenge Neirin. When my father returned, battered and brokenhearted, Arrin became consumed by her grief and blamed him for both of their deaths."

Her Aneira paused with the weight of the tale. When Serén had told it to her, she'd felt guilt for not even shedding a tear for family she lost and for the guilt-ridden turmoil Anian must have felt. The relation was far too distant for her emotions to be impacted in such a way, however much her heart pulled for her father.

"She became mad with it and told all their extended family, friends and acquaintances of what my father had done with his recklessness. After a while, people began to view him differently, treat him coldly, for in a sense, the murder of a well-known, well-loved dwarf that so many respected, and widowed his own sister. Coupled with his own grief, it nearly drove _him _mad.

"My mother was able to steady him, while his own mother couldn't bear to look upon him without seeing the slightly different appearance of her dead son. My mother agreed to run away with him, and that is when they travelled east and happened upon the Shire," she finished with a sigh.

By then her throat felt dry and scratched, and her legs were tired from standing in the same position for so long, but she hardly wanted to move. Aneira had never talked of her family so freely, never something so personal, not even with Melisse though Aneira cherished the girl's friendship. Talking of her father had always been too hard, too fresh on her mind, especially with Aeron. Never did she have the time to simply be, and share so many things with someone who seemed to care. That was why she was surprised when Kili's voice broke her reverie.

"My mother and my uncle's brother, Frerin…his death affected them greatly," he began. "Mostly Thorin…he also died in the battle for Moria, fighting beside him. My uncle lost much that day, but the slaying of his brother was…I believe…what hardened him the most after losing Erebor. Naturally, he felt responsible…"

For the second time, Aneira witnessed this dwarf's solemn nature. To her it was both odd and profound on such a normally jovial person, more likely to tease you insufferably than reveal a piece of himself that gave even _him_ pause to discuss.

"But even then…sometimes," he hesitated to frame his words carefully, "it's easier to protect those you love from harm in battle than their own stubbornness, or pride…especially in something that ails their mind rather than their body."

_Or both, _she silently added in her mind. After a long moment of silent in which neither felt altogether comfortable after something so heady passing between them, Kili spoke once more.

"It would be best if we got some sleep, I suppose," he said, and went ahead and climbed down the bucket, missing her nod of agreement. He used the wall as a support, then pivoted to offer her a courteous hand. She smiled faintly and reached downward, but just as their hands touched, Bofur's voice startled them both.

"That's enough ogling the starlight, better get some sleep," Bofur said with a cheeky smile. Aneira yelped and lost her balance as the bucket swayed underneath her feet. She pitched forward and braced herself for what would have been a spectacular fall.

Instead, she opened her eyes to find her waist held tightly by calloused hands, and her arms wrapped around Kili's neck as her breath came out shallowly. She heard a long whistle and a few laughs as her feet gently touched the ground. Over Kili's shoulder, Aneira glared at Bofur who was still laughing as he walked past them.

"Nice catch, lad," he said, and pat the younger dwarf on the shoulder on his way. Slowly, the two stepped back from one another. While nerves bunched at the pit of Aneira's stomach and mortification made her face flush, she laughed a bit as part of her hair caught on the clasp in his. She removed it carefully as amusement and embarrassment played on Kili's features.

Without another word, she smiled softly and headed to her usual spot of hay at the far end of the house, unintentionally leaving Kili standing in a state of befuddlement.

* * *

Aneira was both disappointed and grateful later that evening when she discovered they were to leave early in the morning. She rather liked sleeping indoors, even if there were bees. But she was happy to be out from under Beorn's watchful eye.

The next morning, breakfast was hardy and with a side of honey and crème, bringing Beorn's bees to the forefront of her memory. She even looked above her head periodically to make sure none were near.

"Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?" he asked. This seemed to surprise Thorin, for the man had not asked more than a few questions of the dwarves in the three days they had stayed in the house, assuming Gandalf had explained all there needed telling.

"You know of Azog?" asked Thorin. "How?"

"My people were the first to live in the mountains, before the Orcs came down from the north. The Defiler killed most of my family, but some he enslaved," he said with another half-shake of his head. "Not for work, you understand, but for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him."

"There are others like you then?" said Bilbo. Aneira imagined he wanted to confirm what it was he had told her.

"Once there were many," Beorn corrected with a nod of his head.

"Now there is only one. Mirkwood is not far from here, mere miles. But I will warn you, a darkness lies upon that forest, foul things creep beneath those trees. There is an alliance between the Orcs of Moria and The Necromancer in Dol Guldur. The Wood Elves are not like their kin, less wise and more dangerous…but if you say you must reach the mountain before Durin's Day, you are running out of time," said Beorn. He was stood beside the table of dwarves, casually pacing to and fro. But his steps were measured, seemed to be purposed instinctually. "I must have my ponies back, however. Let them go once you reach the woods. They will know to return."

"Thank you for helping us," said Balin gratefully, with an incline of his head. The skin-changer shook his head minutely, more so at himself than in response to Balin.

"I am not overly fond of dwarves," he said bluntly, and held his hands behind his back at the base of his spine. His slow voice rolled over them and reverberated into the wooden strongholds of the house. His hand met a field mouse not unlike the one that had crawled upon Aneira's shoulder, making her shudder involuntarily. But then she gazed at the gentleness of his touch, and how the edges of sharp eyes softened marginally. It made her pause.

"They're greedy and blind, blind to the lives of those they deem less like their own…"

He stopped in his pace, and turned to them.

"But orcs I hate more. Is there anything more you need?"

His words stilled Aneira more than any command Thorin could have given at the moment.

* * *

Their farewells to Beorn were short-lived, with Gandalf being the only one who spoke familiarly to the skin-changer. But after she had her pack situated on her back, boots tied and hair plaited, there was a part of her that didn't want to leave the homely house. It was safe, untouched by darkness. Even with all its oddities of bees and mice and cattle and horses, she would always remember looking out that window and truly seeing the sky.

While Gandalf made his way to the door, Aneira turned back one last time to see the master of the house gazing at her with quiet consideration. She smiled a small, but genuine smile.

"Thank you," she said, with warmth. After a heartbeat's silence, he nodded slowly, his eyes deepening in understanding of her meaning.

She was no longer afraid of the Bear in his den.


End file.
